Anne of Nova Scotia
by coffee666
Summary: In an alternate life, neither Anne nor Gilbert were orphaned. Yet, they still found their way to one another. chapters: [5/?]
1. Chapter 1

"_Prince Wisteria, with flashing violet eyes, looked to Cordelia and took her hands in his. Cordelia smiled, her rippling hair of—" _

Anne paused in her writing, pencil stopping in its tracks, the furious scratching dying in her ears. She looked over at Susan, who sat in the desk beside her.

"What color hair should Cordelia have, do you think?" Anne asked her.

"I don't know." Susan shrugged a shoulder without looking over. "What difference does it make?"

"It makes all the difference." Anne insisted. "Cordelia is supposed to be lovely! What's the loveliest color hair?"

"Just make it red." Susan glanced over. "Like yours."

"I would laugh at your joke, but you're never intending to be funny. A shame, you're good at it." Anne said, a challenging tone in her voice. Susan didn't respond.

Anne tossed her red curls over her shoulder with annoyance. There was no use ever trying to get a rise out of Susan. Anne's best friend never knew how to argue in a playful manner. She also never had any good story ideas or anything imaginative to say at all. Anne knew deep down they were only friends because they lived across the street from one another.

"Maybe I'll make it blonde, like yours. Or do you prefer the term golden?" Anne tried to smile kindly.

"Either one." Susan began copying what was on the blackboard.

"Wouldn't _I _be more beautiful with golden hair?" Anne poked Susan with the point of her pencil, trying to entice her. "Just picture it."

"I can't picture it, Anne. I'm trying to write." Susan scooted her desk away just slightly so that Anne's pencil no longer touched her.

"Oh Susan, you never want to pretend anything is how it's not."

"Because that's how things are, Anne." Susan flashed her a look, her blue eyes shining before going back to her work.

The teacher stepped into the room and Anne quickly turned the page in her notebook back to the one she'd already copied the work on.

"Now," The teacher tossed his old tweed jacket onto the hook by the door. It fell into the floor. Everyone laughed, even Anne, as he picked it up and folded it over the back of his chair. He grinned, flashing them all his good natured smile. "Now, now… I didn't hear anyone talking while I was out in the hallway, did I?"

"No, Mr. Shirley." The class chorused.

"No, Mr. Shirley." Anne whispered to herself, unable to bite back a smirk.

Her father, her teacher, caught her eye and winked at her. Anne laughed and bent back over her work. She quickly flipped back to write her story as her father began explaining the prompt on the board.

Anne loved having her father as her teacher. For one thing, she finished her work faster than anyone else, since she always knew what was coming. Walter Shirley would sit by the fire at night and make up his lesson plans, and Anne would sit on the rug down by the hearth and listen in.

He was also there to critique her essays. Her biggest fan and biggest critic, Walter was always trying to make Anne better in her literary work. As a published novelist himself, Walter knew what she needed to hear.

"Cut out the purple prose, Rosebud." He'd laugh.

"I like my prose as violet as the sky at sunset." She'd say right back.

Though lately, at just sixteen, Anne found herself shying away from showing her father her work. School essays were fine, but her novels were becoming increasingly private.

The grand romances she wrote of as a child, with clasped hands between two parties swearing their love, were nothing compared to the romances she wrote now. Anne had described kisses in writing more times now than she'd ever been kissed in real life, which wasn't hard, as she'd actually never done it.

"And we're remembering to underline our titles." Walter Shirley was saying as he came down the aisle. Anne was not paying attention.

"_Underline_." Mr. Shirley reached out and touched the title of Anne's Cordelia story.

Anne gasped, face flushing as she shut her notebook, narrowly missing closing it on her father's hand. Mr. Shirley yanked his hand back and laughed. Anne stuck her tongue out at him before turning back to the page with the essay prompt she'd copied from the board.

_What I plan on accomplishing this year is…_

Anne stared at it for a moment, tapping her pencil on the desk as she thought. Susan glared at Anne as the tapping grew louder.

What did she want to accomplish? Anne looked at her father, who was helping another student. She then wondered what her mother was doing. Bertha Shirley was a teacher too, with her younger students just across the hall.

Anne had read more than once about small towns out in the country whose schools had only one room, one teacher. Anne thought it sounded tragical. Wonderfully so, but she was still glad that wasn't the case for her.

"I expect to see these by the end of class." Mr. Shirley said, taking his pocket watch out and checking it.

Anne quickly went to her work again, knowing she needed to write at least something to keep her father satisfied, even though she'd rather write of Cordelia's life over her own.

_I plan on experiencing a grand romance._

Anne stared at the page, crossed out romance with force, and rewrote.

_I plan on experiencing a grand adventure._

Anne knew she was pushing her luck with even her father as she turned in the paper without only a single line written, so she tried to shove it down under everyone else's as they filed out the door.

In the hallway, Mrs. Shirley was waving out her class, who filed out in a messy line of shoving and tripping. Anne waved to her mother over the little one's heads before following Susan outside.

"What did you write about?" Anne asked.

"How I wanted to accomplish making a dress on my own this year." She said. Anne was surprised by Susan saying something interesting for once. "What about you?"

"Adventure." Anne said. "Though, a lost cause, isn't it? Halifax isn't much known for dragons swooping down or anything."

"No, it isn't." Susan agreed before suddenly quickened her pace to join Bridget and Jenny who were walking just ahead. Anne slowed her pace, deflated as she was left behind before calling out lamely. "Well… see you!"

"All alone, Rosebud?" Walter approached her from behind, papers spilled from the corner of a briefcase under one arm.

Anne looked over her shoulder and grinned at the sight of her parents. She did so enjoy walking home with them more than Susan anyways. Anne stepped in between them and took one of their hands in each of hers.

"Not anymore." She gave them gentle squeezes and beamed up at them.

"Big smile for someone rewriting an essay tonight." Walter smirked.

"Oh, don't tease her, Walter." Bertha sighed. "You know how she gets about writing. She was likely just waiting for the perfect timing to focus, weren't you my dear?"

"Yes." Anne sighed, deciding to accept the homework with dignity. "Everything's perfect now."

Anne finished her essay upstairs in her bedroom, as she smelled her mother finishing dinner down below. Though she was almost done, she decided to dawdle to avoid having to set the table.

She laid her pencil down across her paper and stood up. At the bookshelf, Anne stepped around the unsorted towers of books that were on the floor. She was supposed to be choosing some to give away now that she had too many for her bookshelf, but she hadn't wanted to make the cut yet.

Anne reached to the highest shelf and pulled down her one of father's book. _Legends of the Lavellan, _Anne's favorite.The white cover was still pristine, even after all this time, and that was because Anne treated her copy very gently. She carefully opened the front cover and read the inscription her father had left.

_To my Rosebud, turn pages and spread your wings –Father. _

Anne had only been four years old when her father sold his first manuscript and eleven when he sold his second, and though the money had allowed Anne the slightly finer things in life growing up, neither her nor her parents had forgotten what was really important.

Anne touched the writing, fingers brushing over his special nickname for her. She smiled, remembering how he'd read from this copy aloud at night as she snuggled in bed. She liked that better than reading it herself. She could read since she was able to talk, but she liked the way he did the voices.

It was only when her mother called her down to eat that Anne decided to be done with her essay. She reshelved her father's book, scrawled some last few whimsical words onto paper and then dashed downstairs.

She stopped in the dining room, eyeing the dished on the table. Her eyes widened and her heart pounded. Pecan pie. Her mother only made pecan pie when she wanted to break bad news to her.

Last time they had pecan pie, Anne had been told over dinner that their horse had died. Her parents must have had news in a joint effort, as they exchanged worried glances as they eyed Anne frozen in the doorway.

"Pie!" Anne looked between them in alarm. "Is one of you dying!?"

Gilbert's eyes blurred as he stared at the same sentence over and over again in the book. He was trying to make himself small, squashed into the corner down by the bookshelf, hyperaware of his mother moving in the kitchen behind him.

If he looked busy, she'd leave him alone, he told himself. He wasn't sure why he trusted himself to believe that after seventeen years proved it untrue. She sought him out, proven by the damp hand now in his hair.

"Gilbert, why don't you go give your father a hand?"

"Yes, Mother." Gilbert bit back complaints as he closed the book and stood up.

He wasn't sure why it all weighed him down. Yes, his father needed help, but something about seeing it all in person hurt. Still, it was selfish to want to avoid it all.

Gilbert walked around the back of the house, following the dirt trail to what was left of the orchard. John Blythe stood in the empty field, shoveling blackened wood and soot into a wheelbarrow.

He didn't see Gilbert at first, and Gilbert's heart broke at the way his father's face was frozen in grief, arms trembling just slightly around the shovel as he pulled up shovels full of charred wood. He caught sight of Gilbert approaching.

"Hey son." John tried to smile as he pressed the shovel into the Earth and leaned on it.

"Mom…uh, mom said I should help?" Gilbert tried not to look down at his father's injured leg.

"Then shovel away, my boy!" John handed Gilbert the tool with a weary smile, hiding his pain as he lifted the handles of the wheelbarrow with great effort.

"Maybe I should—" Gilbert reached out.

"I've got it. You shovel, I push." John grunted.

"Yes, Sir." Gilbert sighed.

Gilbert tried to keep his own face neutral as she shoveled up the remains of their precious crop. It was absolutely heart breaking that not one tree had survived the fire. Every apple seed was burnt to ash. To less than ash.

"Some of these trees were older than me." John mopped his face with a cloth as Gilbert lifted the blackened Earth into the wheelbarrow. "And just like that—" A snap of his fingers. "The Lord takes them in fire."

"It wasn't your fault, Dad." Gilbert said.

John didn't seem to believe him. He pressed the cloth to his eyes now, as if forcing away tears. Gilbert felt his own face break in anguish as he watched him, but quickly picked up back working so his father wouldn't see Gilbert was watching him cry.

"Better finish up soon…your mother will need help anyways." He mumbled. He walked off to the edge of the field where he finally broke. "God, what are we gonna do this year?"

Gilbert dropped the shovel, soot and mud splattering his boots as he crossed the feel and caught his father by the shoulders. John sobbed, hands pressed to his face.

"We need the crop! We need the money!"

"We'll get by!" Gilbert assured him. "I can stay home this year to work. I'm already so ahead in school…"

"You shouldn't— Not your burden—"

"Boys?" Gilbert's mother called in the distance. "Soup's on!"

"Coming, Dora!"John stood up straight and wiped at his face once more, this time smearing ash into the prominent lines. "Don't forget to wash up, son."

"Yes, Sir." Gilbert was almost impressed by how quickly his father put away all the sadness and grief, but equally impressed that he allowed himself to feel it at all.

He never hid from emotions, good or bad. His mother said that most soldiers returning from war bottled it all up, but John had been different. When he felt something, he left them know, good or bad. Gilbert admired that. The idea that men had to be unwavering strongholds was terrifying, and he was glad he'd get to live instead by his father's example.

How much his father loved his mother, that was another thing Gilbert admired. The pain and even his limp seemed to vanish as they approached the house. John smiled and embraced his wife. Dora Blythe laughed and Gilbert smiled.

His fleeting feelings of contentment did not last. Gilbert stood over his washstand in his room after dinner, washing as much soot from under his nails as possible. It was then that he heard tense voices from his parent's room. He dared investigate.

"Nothing. There's nothing left for me here." John was saying as Gilbert crept closer.

"Nothing?" Dora whispered harshly. "What about me? What about your son!?"

"A burden." John sighed. Gilbert felt his heart break. Did his father mean him? "I'm a burden to him. Even if the land survived, I can't till it. My leg has been getting worse—"

"I can help. Let me into the field." She said firmly.

"Dorothy, there is no field. The land is gone, months…years before it's back." John said. "There is nothing here. Just let me go, and I'll send back as much money as I can. I'll see if I can't maybe find something permanent on the mainland, and then I'll send for you and Gilbert."

"What work?" Dora paused and Gilbert froze as the floorboard creaked underneath his foot. "What work could you possibly do in your condition?"

"Steamships need workers. I did it for years right out of school, and I can do it again now."

"Not if you can't walk!" Dora scoffed. "John, please. You can't go on a boat to God knows where! We need you here!"

"Then what? We're running out of money, and no crop? How do you suspect we survive!?"

Gilbert held his breath. Unlike his father, he'd never been one to cry, but hearing their voices this way was shaking something inside of him. He had no idea things were this bad. After the fire, people in Avonlea sent over food and condolences, and Gilbert just assumed things would be alright.

He recalled now, seeing his father standing by the fireplace the night before and gently lifting his war medal from the case. He often did that in the throes of reminiscence but something told Gilbert now that if he went to look, then the medal would be gone.

The very breakfast he'd eaten that morning would have come from the money his father had gotten with its pawn. His expression hardened, and it was then that he knew what he had to do.

"I'll go!" Gilbert pushed open the bedroom door. "Let me go work on the ship."

"A ship?" Anne blinked, looking between her parents at the dinner table. "Like a boat?"

"Exactly." Walter nodded, reaching across the table for her hand. Anne put down her pie fork and took his hand. "When the sea breeze blows, that's my muse. The open sea is the perfect place for me to get more writing done."

"What about school?" Anne looked at her mother. "If you're both on a ship, then who will teach your classes?"

"There are plenty of teachers, especially young ones, who'd want the job. They can get experience without having to commit to a whole year." Bertha said.

"If father is going to be writing." Anne looked at her. "…What will you do?"

"Teaching you, of course." Bertha smiled. "That is, if you still want to go to college."

"Of course I do!" Anne knew by her mother's playful tone that she knew Anne's answer well. "This is just unexpected, that's all. We're really all going to go out to sea?"

"We are!" Walter was excited. "You ready for your sea legs, Rosebud?"

The very reality of it all seemed to hit Anne. Forgetting all about pie, she jumped to her feet and squealed. Her heart swelled as the thousands of glorious imagines, adventures and far off places filled her mind.

"When are we leaving!? What sort of ports are we going to!? Oh, tell me everything!" Anne clasped her hands.

"The Osprey doesn't leave for a week, dear." Bertha laughed.

"Oh." Anne stopped bouncing.

"But, the ports include from Canada to England, and more." Walter nodded. "Lots of interesting cargo to pick up, as well as interesting people."

"I can't wait!" Anne sighed. "I'm going to have an adventure!"

Gilbert held back a yawn as he leaned against a railing on the dock of Charlottetown. The Osprey would be docking within the hour, and the sun was only just now peering over the horizon. He shoved his hands in the pockets of the thin coat he wore and felt his hands brush the few coins his mother had given him, pressed into a leather wallet.

It had felt betraying them, the way he raised his voice and demanded they let him go. His mother cried, insisting he had no idea how to work on a boat. His father cried too, but clapped him on the shoulders.

In the end, he knew his mother couldn't change his mind. He refused to stay the night, eat another meal when they couldn't afford it, so Gilbert had taken the only coin they could spare and rode the rails to Charlottetown, just in time for the Osprey.

It didn't feel real, sleeping at the train station over night, walking to the docks before the sun rose. None of it did. His mind yelled, you have a bed at home, what are you doing!? You didn't even bring your school books!

Gilbert squashed down those thoughts and reminded himself of reality, of the feel of flames and the sight of his family's prospects burning up. That was real.

This was real.

Tobacco smoke mixed with the ocean spray as a couple of other workers arrived, their lit hand-rolled cigarettes handing from their mouths.

They were grown men, Gilbert noticed, feeling small. They wore shabby denim overalls and one of them was without a hat. The other man did have a hat, but with patches on the brim.

Gilbert glanced down at his own clothes –similar work clothes, as per his father's recommendation, but his seemed so clean in comparison. He quickly snatched the hat from his head and wadded it into his pocket as the ship approached.

Like a building on the water, Gilbert felt even more intimidated by its size as it grew closer. Finally, it pulled slowly to the dock, dwarfing the other docked ships in size.

A wide wooden plank bridged the gap between the dock and the dark cargo hold of the ship as it opened. Men in dirty uniforms ushered out and began picking up crates and barrels from the other side of the pier.

"Don't drop that!" A man in a jacket holding a tobacco pipe barked as a man ducked back into the hold with a barrel. "We're picking up passengers in a few hours, and you think they wanna wait on a dock that stinks of dead fish!?"

To Gilbert's surprise, the men that he'd been waiting with rushed towards the man with the pipe. He pulled his pipe from his mouth and looked them over. Gilbert walked to stand beside them.

"I said I'd take three from P.E.I." He grumbled, pointing at the two men beside Gilbert and jabbing his thumb towards the remaining barrels. They went right to work hauling. Gilbert's heart pounded as the man finally looked him over. "How old are you, boy?"

"Seventeen, sir." Gilbert said firmly. "I'm strong, I've been working fields my whole life."

"You look skinny." The man narrowed his eyes at him.

"Please, sir, I'm strong and I promise I'll work hard." Gilbert's brows pulled together in worry. Wouldn't that just be something, to have them not even want him and force him to go back home?

"Fine." He sighed. "Well, don't just stand there, boy! This isn't the farm, we don't just stand around and wait for grass to grow!"

Gilbert scrambled to pick up a crate. It was heavy, but his adrenaline was pumping now. He became a blur with the other men, a cog in a machine as they took all the barrels and crates from the dock. The last one was long, and Gilbert thought nothing of taking one side while another man took the other.

"Just a tip," The other worker whispered, a slight accent in his voice. Gilbert looked up to see dark skin. His heart pounded. "You wanna stay on his good side."

"I didn't know he had a good side." Gilbert replied, lifting his half and resisting the urge to watch over his shoulder as he backed into the hold.

"Funny, but I mean it." The man was unamused. "Someone like you could either be his favorite or his least favorite."

"What happens to the favorites?" Gilbert asked.

"They go up on deck, wash and tend to the passengers. They see the sun without having to sweat in it too much."

"And the least favorites?" Gilbert was almost afraid to ask, and based off the look the other man gave him, he didn't want to know.

They stacked the crate inside with the others, but Gilbert barely had time to rest before the boss was back, yelling into the hold so his voice echoed off the walls.

"Let's go, I want those engines hot before we start to Nova Scotia!"

"Come on," The dark-skinned man gestured for Gilbert to follow him. "The sound of the coal almost drowns him out, so it's worth it."

"How long have you worked here?" Gilbert asked.

"I've been on ships for almost a decade. But, the Oliver? Just a week or three." He said.

"This is the Osprey." Gilbert blinked.

"Whatever. They're all the same after a while." He sighed. "So, why'd a shrimp like you leave the farm?"

"Change of pace." Gilbert shrugged, feeling sweat already blooming on his forehead as they approached the door to the furnace.

"I don't think this pace was such a good idea, boy." The man swung open a large metal door and Gilbert was hit with a wave of heat. The man watched Gilbert shed his jacket immediately with a mix of amusement and pity. "What they call you, anyways?"

"Gilbert." He shoved his two-coin wallet from his jacket into his pants pocket. "Gilbert Blythe."

"Blythe?" The man sighed and stepped into the room. Gilbert followed and they let the door slam behind them. "Yeah, I used to be too."

Anne sat on top of her suitcase, using it as a makeshift bench to people-watch the crowds at the Halifax harbor. The excruciating week wait wasn't made easier in deciding what to pack and what to leave behind.

Finally, she settled on leaving Beary behind. The old stuffed toy's button eye had fallen off anyways. With what to take with her, Anne packed her best dresses her mother had bought her. Her favorite ones sported trim of plaid to reflect her highland heritage.

The scarf she wore now was the same soft red plaid. Anne hadn't expected the wind to be this cold, but the smell of salt told her this was the sea's freezing way of greeting her.

"Take a look out there, Buttercup." Walker leaned over Anne's shoulder, extending out a small brass telescope. "Tell me what you see?"

Anne took her gloves off and shoved them into her fleece coat pocket. She put the telescope to her eye and looked out to the grey water that lashed towards the grey sky. In the distance, she saw something.

"I see it! I see the ship!" Anne lowered the telescope. "It's nothing like the ferry, it's…huge! It looks like someone sent a street's worth of buildings afloat!"

A man nearby waiting to board seemed to chuckle at Anne. Anne was used to adults finding her prose amusing, so she paid it no mind.

"Remember dear, eat your breakfast. We won't get anything on the ship until lunch." Bertha reminded her.

"Yes, Mother."

Anne sat back down on her suitcase and opened up the basket. Bread and a tin thermos of tea reminded Anne of what sailors ate in books. She ate a piece of toast and butter as she looked at the other people on the dock.

Women were holding their hats to keep the wind from blowing them away. Their parasols hung closed down by their sides, not needed on such a cloudy day. Men wore fine jackets and checked nice pocket watches with a huff.

Further back, the people waiting seemed anxious. Their clothes were plain and one women was attempting to hold a pair of crying twins. She had no luggage to sit on.

Anne caught her mother's eye. She'd been watching the woman too. Anne looked to her father, who was in lively conversation with another man.

Wordlessly, Anne picked up the picnic basket and she and Bertha approached the woman. The new mother's eyes widened in slight fear and she stepped back, her children wailing.

"I'm sorry to bother you," Bertha said. "It's just that I packed far too much food, and I'm not sure what we're allowed to take on the ship… would you like the extras?"

Anne held out the basket and smiled. The woman looked stunned, and then almost as if she was going to cry.

"May I hold one of your babies?" Anne asked. "I do so adore children!"

Anne held one of the babies as Bertha held the other. The mother ate several pieces of toast as Anne tried to calm the crying shivering child in her arms.

"When we dock in England, I hope things pick up for us." The woman tried to daintily wipe crumbs from her mouth as she took the baby back from Bertha.

"I think they'll like the ship." Anne said, relieved the child in her arms had calmed somewhat. "Maybe we'll see you on board, and I can play with them a bit?"

At this, the woman laughed without warmth, cutting off when she caught site of Anne's shock. She then forced a smile.

"I just don't think we'll see each other, that's all. Thank you anyways." She held out her other arm and Anne reluctantly gave back the baby before following her mother back to the front of the dock.

"What does she mean?" Anne asked. "The ships isn't so big I'd never see her. Maybe she just doesn't want us bothering her?"

"Never mind it, dear." Bertha put her hands on Anne's shoulders but didn't look her way.

The ship grew closer and it wasn't until Walter fumbled for their tickets in his pocket that Anne felt it sink in. The words across the tops of their tickets read _First Class. _No doubt, that mother's had not. Anne looked back sadly for the woman, but the passenger crowd had already closed in.

The Osprey really was like strip of city atop the water. Anne gasped, her troubles gone in a flash at the sight of adventure. She held on hand to the wool hat over her red hair and tried to take in the sight of the ship that extended down the entire dock, and then some.

Men from the other dock carried crates across a ramp into the hold as the larger staired ramp came down for passengers. A man in a genuine sailor hat checked tickets as people rushed forward. Anne stayed rigid, afraid of being trampled. She held her carryon bag clutched to her chest, her heavy suitcase still at her feet.

Another group of men picked up people's luggage after someone checked their tickets. Women, and even men, let someone else carry their things without a second thought.

Walter seemed to have the same regards as Anne, and held both his and Bertha's bags in his arms. The stack extended up past his face and Anne feared he'd walk right off the ramp without being able to see where he was going. Luckily, Bertha led him by the arm.

Anne did not want to lose them in the crowd. People were already shoving to walk up as others argued who had and hadn't shown tickets yet. Anne heard the twin babies begin to wail once more.

Anne bent down for her suitcase just as one of the worker's did as well. Her hands brushed against theirs and Anne looked up to see a boy who couldn't have been older than she was.

His face was streaked with coal in the corners by his ears, as if he'd done a poor job of cleaning himself up. His grey shirt must have once been white, and his eyes. They held such innocence and hardship, reminding Anne of the new mother.

"I've got it." Anne managed, grabbing hold of the handle and standing so that the suitcase was upright.

"You sure?" The boy stood up.

"Yes." Anne was determined. She lifted the suitcase up, trying not to strain. She then started for the stairs.

He must have been watched her to make sure she really had it, as she could feel his gaze on her as it caused her heart to pound incessantly as she climbed higher. Finally, her arms buckled and Anne dropped the suitcase down with a thud only partway up.

"I got it, Rosebud." Walter had come back down for Anne, grabbing her suitcase and hauling it up. "Follow me. You've gotta pick your bed in the cabin."

Anne reached out to place her arm within the crook of his elbow so she wouldn't lose him, but she kept turned around to watch the dock grow smaller. Her gaze scanned the people below.

The few passengers made their way up and the last of the worker's finished loading. Anne watched a group of them, the boy nowhere in sight.

Anne could not have made him up. Even she did not have that good of an imagination. There was someone her age on the ship, but not as a passenger. Anne wondered what the life of the workers down below was, or if the labor made the sight of sea lose it's magic, but her musings were interrupted by the blowing of the ship's foghorn.

Anne clamped both hands over her ears and laughed, the sea breeze blowing her curls limp and billowing her dress out around her. Her first real adventure was about to begin!


	2. Chapter 2

Anne let her mind wander as she and her father sat out on the open deck of the ship. Her mind was a whirlwind of story ideas, as they seemed to come as often as the ocean breeze, but she could not seem to stick to one.

She looked up from her notebook to watch her father. He was in a frenzy, his pen scrawling across his page just as it'd been doing all morning since they came to sit out here. He wasn't bothered by the bustling people coming to look over the railing, or the birds calling from over head.

Anne was supposed to writing about Cordelia, but without inspiration, she decided to focus on Wisteria instead. What was he supposed to look like? Anne looked at her father again. As the kindest man she knew, maybe he'd make a good subject.

Walter's light straw-colored hair was tinged with grey at his temples, as was the shade of scruff he hadn't shaved from his face that morning. His glasses were on his nose, sliding down. Biting back a laugh, Anne looked at his clothes. It was the same nice, but old, suit he always wore. As if he decided to splurge when he had the money, but only with the intention to never update his wardrobe.

Maybe not a prince. He was too dad-like. Perhaps he'd make a good wizard or something? Anne jotted down her observations on her father anyways before leaning over to peer at his paper.

One hand was holding down the corner from turning in the wind, the other was scrawling messy inked words. After a moment, Anne recognized Gaelic, which she couldn't read. She only knew some Gaelic, which was almost all Scottish songs her parents sometimes sang.

Sinking back against the bench, Anne thought of Wisteria, whose name she lifted from the flower trellis in their backyard back in Halifax. Deep purple flowers…for deep purple eyes.

_Wisteria's violet eyes were deep with romance. He took Coredlia's hand before getting down on one knee. His dark curly hair fell into his eyes, and Cordelia saw more than just love in his eyes. He was sad, too. As if he had a whole story he needed to tell. He needed someone to listen, too. He was—_

Anne blinked in surprise and leaned up from being hunched over her notebook. That description was from her mind, but not without its own inspiration.

That boy she'd seen at the dock yesterday morning when they boarded had almost completely escaped her mind for now. Even though she could now picture him clearly, feel the way her hands had brushed his on the handle of her suitcase, something about writing about someone she didn't know felt wrong.

Yet, as she tried to think of something else, she just couldn't. Anne needed a break. She closed her notebook and stood up.

"I'm going to explore." Anne told her father.

"Be careful." Walter glanced up, pushing his glasses up his nose. "And meet your mother for a lesson or two. Best keep up with your work a bit each day so you won't spend our days at port holed up with essays to write."

"I will." Anne was a bit disappointed that her father was already chiding her about school work, especially because she couldn't picture them sending her to the cabin to study, even if she did get behind. Still, she wouldn't risk it. And she liked school, even if it wasn't as exciting as her writing.

Anne walked slowly around the deck, admiring the people. She noticed most of them were going into the first class lounge. Anne felt a pang of sadness that she was allowed in there when other's weren't, but her thoughts of boycotting it were put aside when she realized how thirsty she was.

Just one drink is okay, Anne told herself. She walked into the lounge and gasped in excitement. It was just like a fancy restaurant, with servers and cooks wheeling out trays of food. People sat at tables with stark white table clothes and drank tea.

A man in a black tuxedo sat at a large white ivory piano and played light music. Anne had been to nice restaurants like this before with her parents, but back then, she'd hadn't been old enough to sit and order on her own.

"Can I get you something, miss?" A server with a dish cloth tucked into his waist looked at her.

"Do you have ginger tea?" She asked.

"Yes. Take a seat and I'll bring you our tea platter, with treats." He smiled at her.

Anne sat at a small table and folded the napkin over her notebook resting in her lap. Across the room, men gathered at the wide open windows to smoke. They all wore fancy clothes and Anne imagined them to be talking important business.

Nearby, the wives sat among themselves in ruffed dresses sipping tea. Anne sighed in admiration at their puffed sleeves.

Anne's tea platter turned out to be full of many tarts as well, most of which Anne hadn't seen before. That guilty feeling was back. She was never going to be able to eat all of these. She wondered what sort of foods the second class passengers got.

She loaded her tea with sugar and milk and picked up her cup from the saucer with both hands. It was then that she caught someone's eye.

At a table of women, sat a girl about Anne's age. Her blue and white dress had puffed sleeves and there was a ribbon in her dark curly hair. The girl smiled at Anne as her eyes darted down to her hand.

Realizing what the girl meant, Anne moved to hold the cup by one hand only. The girl nodded in encouragement and waved her pinky finger. Anne stuck out her pinky and the girl giggled.

Anne sipped her tea, all the while wondering she should do. There was a girl her age on the ship! In the same cabin! Anne had seen somewhat older girls, with up-done hair and such, but no one who she felt she could talk to.

She was reminded of harsh reality when she saw the girl's mother lean over to whisper sharply. The girl sat up straighter, shoulders back. A younger girl at the table of about seven laughed loudly, earning a chide from the woman as well.

Anne knew how to be proper, she just forgot a lot of the time. Her mother didn't care about that sort of thing, as long as Anne wasn't being blatantly rude or messy. But proper girls were a dime a dozen in Halifax, and none of them liked Anne.

She was too silly, or too strange, or talked too much. None of them really understood her, and she didn't feel like changing much for them. This girl was likely that way too.

Anne put down her empty cup and clapped politely as the pianist finished playing. He then began playing a somewhat faster piece and Anne longed to dance.

Couples formed as the men stubbed out their cigarettes and joined the women. They all danced simple waltzes, and Anne was now a bit sad she didn't wait to have tea with her father. He was the only person she'd ever waltzed with, even if he did playful pretend he was going to step on her feet.

She pushed back her chair and stood up to leave, clutching her notebook to her chest, when she noticed the dark-haired girl stand as well. She seemed to be watching her parents dancing with an almost sadness.

In a moment of determination, Anne put her notebook down and walked over, offering her hand. The girl looked over and smiled gratefully before taking it.

"I really like this song." The girl said. "Even if it is classical."

"I know what you mean." Anne took a moment to get her bearings when it came to leading the waltz rather than following. "I prefer music with lyrics."

"Not just that." She laughed, continuing on somewhat shyly. "It's just, I play, but I'm only allowed to play classical or music my mother otherwise deems acceptable."

"You play?" Anne was impressed. "That seems so exciting, but what sort of artist has their medium limited? That sounds ever so uninspiring!"

"You're right." The girl seemed to realize it now, repeating. "Uninspiring. That's exactly what it is! I've been looking for a word for so long…"

"Well, I'm full of them." Anne chuckled. "I'm Anne Shirley."

"Diana Barry." The song ended and Diana dropped her hands to curtsey. "Did you board yesterday?"

"Yes." Anne nodded. "From Nova Scotia. Where are you from?"

Before Diana could answer, her mother walked over and placed a firm hand on her shoulder. Anne instinctively stepped back from the woman's gaze as it moved over her, as if determining what sort of person Anne was and whether she was allowed to talk to Diana.

After a second, she seemed indifferent to Anne and glanced back to her daughter. Diana was standing straight, with her hands clasped.

"Diana, wasn't the pianist lovely? When we get to London, you know you'll get a tutor back, and be able to play all the Bach you desire."

"Wonderful." Diana smiled, though the light did not reach her eyes until she locked gazes with Anne. "Mother, this is Anne. She's from Nova Scotia."

"Ever so pleased to meet you!" Anne took Mrs. Barry's hand and shook it the way her father taught her to. The look of shock from Diana and mild horror from Mrs. Barry told Anne that was a mistake and she let go and she chuckled awkwardly, face red. "It's a highland thing!"

"Right." Mrs. Barry narrowed her eyes uncertainly. "You are in…_this _cabin, aren't you, Anne?"

"Yes." Anne nodded. She was almost offended, knowing if she had said no, then they wouldn't have had anything more to do with her. "My father is Walter Shirley, a novelist."

"Wow, really?" Diana smiled excitedly. Her mother tilted her head a tad.

"Not familiar with him." She mumbled.

Praying away the awkward moment, Anne turned to see Diana's father pick her sister up and carry her away from the stacks of half-eaten treats at the table. The girl pouted as he put her down with a sigh.

"Now, head back to the room and—" He began.

"No." The girl whined. "I don't wanna rest!"

"Minnie May, the doctor said—"

"How come Diana doesn't have to rest!?"

"She does!" Mr. Barry seemed to snap. "You both are!"

"That's not fair!" Diana gasped. "I feel fine. I'm not tired!"

"Diana, go back to the room with your sister and lay down for a while." Mrs. Barry said firmly. "Now."

Diana looked as if she were dying to defy them, but only slipped her hand into her sister's, who smiled up at her smugly. Anne tried to flash Diana a sympathetic look as her parents followed them out.

"Find me later, alright?" Anne called hopefully and Diana nodded over her shoulder with a smile.

Most everyone was finished with brunch, save for men who were now lighting up cigarettes over coffee without bothering to sit by the window. Anne returned to her table where she wrapped up as many treats as would fit in a cloth napkin and carried them out.

She wanted to tell her father about Diana, but by the time she found him unmoved from their earlier spot, he was so into his work that he didn't seem to notice her standing there. So, Anne just left a tart for him on the arm of his chair and went off to find someone else to share with.

Anne spent the rest of the day in her own world. People crowded in the cabin, lounge rooms, and deck, but Anne hardly noticed them and wasn't bothered. She would just pause and stare out to sea, imagining she were flying across the water's surface like a bird, letting the tips of her wings skim the water.

She longed to touch the cold ocean for herself, but that was not possible. Even when leaning over the railing, the ocean was far, far below. Even if she were brave enough to get on the other side—which she was—she wouldn't be able to reach.

Still, she leaned over until the metal rail dug into her stomach. The toes of her boots wedged firmly under the lower rail to keep her from tipping as she leaned over the ship and extended her arms.

"Whoa, Chickadee!" Walter grabbed her by the collar of her coat. "Don't scare me like that!"

"Sorry." Anne laughed as she leaned back and put her hands down on the rail. She then stepped up, putting her feet on top of the lowest bar on the rail. "I thought you were working?"

"Got a good portion done." He held up his notebook with a chuckle. "Just doing some brainstorming now…"

"I've been brainstorming all day." Anne said, thinking with guilt of her blank pages in the book on the deck floor beside her.

"Then help me with this, what's a good name for a girl? A beautiful girl."

"Diana." Anne said after a second's thought.

"Not bad." Walter seemed to think that over with an approving nod. Anne blushed, glad he hadn't asked for a boy's name. She wouldn't have known what to say. "Come meet us in the cabin for dinner, and then you've got homework."

"Yes, Sir." Anne stepped down from the railing and looked back, watching him disappear down the deck. Oh, how she wished she'd seen Diana again. Or that worker boy.

Part of her prayers were answered a few moments later, when Diana walked across the deck, reluctantly tugging her sister's hand. They smiled when they saw each other.

"What book is that?" Diana's sister pointed at the notebook Anne was holding.

"It's a book I'm writing." Anne told her.

"I wanna read it!"

"There's nothing in it yet." Anne sighed, giving her an apologetic smile.

Unhappy with that answer, yet bored of Anne, Minnie May went skipping and playing on the deck a ways away, dancing a porcelain doll with blonde ringlets across a bench.

"I'm sorry about my mother before." Diana stood beside Anne and looked out to the ocean. "She's like that with everyone."

"It's okay. Everyone's like that with me." Anne said. "I guess I was a bit too excited to see someone my age. How old are you?"

"I just turned sixteen a couple of months ago."

"Me too." Anne was relieved.

"But I've never been out on the ocean like this."

"Me neither. I mean, I've taken the ferry, but they're hardly the same thing."

Anne told Diana a bit about herself and back home in Halifax. Diana told Anne about herself and Anne came to find out that Diana was from a small farming town on Prince Edward Island.

"But my father does the trading of everyone's crops. He's even having most of it shipped with us right now so he can keep an eye on it." Diana said.

Anne looked to the deck floor, picturing the cargo hold below full of crates brimming with apples and turnips and all sorts of other crops.

"What about London? Are you excited? I'd be ever so delighted when I can finally visit where my parents are from." Anne pictured rolling green hills.

"Sure." Diana smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes. "But I am going to miss most everything about the island. I won't know anyone in London."

"I must admit I am bursting with curiosity, why are you going?" Anne leaned over the railing again and looked out to the sea, noticing out of the corner of her eye, almost turmoil on Diana's face.

"It's…my sister, Minnie May." She said finally. "She got very sick this past winter. She almost died."

"What!?" Anne gasped and jumped down from the railing and turned to face Diana.

"My parents think being so far out in the country could be dangerous in case she gets ill again."

Anne looked past Diana at Minnie May. The little girl was sitting on the floor playing happily with her doll. "She seems fine now."

"I know it. I think she is. She just has to rest a lot." Diana sighed and then lowered her voice to a whisper. "It's sinful to think it, I know, but I can't help but be resentful. It's bad enough they let her get anyway with everything since she got sick, but now I'm being taken from Avonlea without ever being asked how I feel. It's not fair."

"I understand." Anne placed a hand on Diana's shoulder. "You're not wrong for thinking it. It does seem unfair to have to leave the only place you've ever known."

"I shouldn't be ungrateful, even though everything else in my life is already planned out for me." Diana looked over. "Promise you won't say anything to anyone?"

"Promise." Anne nodded. Diana looked for a moment like she wanted to say something else, but after a moment, just smiled. "What sort of things are you writing about?"

Anne tentatively began relaying the story of Cordelia as they walked down the deck. She had never shared her tales of deep romance with her parents, only Susan, so Anne was prepared for eyerolls or constant questions about fantastical story elements that didn't make sense. But Diana only listened with intrigue.

When halfway through the story of Cordelia's claiming of Wisteria's blessed sword, Anne jumped up onto a stack of crates that lined the railing. As she thrust out an imaginary sword, much to Diana and her sister's delight, Anne caught a glimpse of farther across the deck.

Among the crowds of people making their way in for dinner, Anne saw a couple of the ship's workers carrying buckets. Trailing behind the men was the boy. Anne went silent, her imaginary sword hanging loosely from her hand.

Diana turned around and followed Anne's gaze. She then gasped softly and ducked around behind the crate. Anne watched the boy, transfixed until he went through a door and disappeared down the stairs that led to one of the lower levels.

"He really is here." Diana mumbled to herself.

"You know him?" Anne jumped down from the crate. "Who is he? What's his name? What's he doing here? He seems awfully young."

"His name is Gilbert Blythe, and he's from Avonlea too." Diana sat down on the crate. "I suppose he had to take another job because his family's orchard burned down."

"Oh, how tragic!" Anne gasped. Her legs felt weak. She suddenly couldn't even bear to stand, as if his pain was now hers. Anne dropped down dramatically beside Diana.

"I thought I saw him the other day, but I wasn't sure."

"Why did you hide from him?" Anne asked.

"I didn't want him to know I've seen him. I'm sure he'd feel so embarrassed if someone from Avonlea knew he was working here because his family is poor. I mean, we used to trade his family's apples, and now… well, his family isn't going to be having any business dinners any time soon."

"That is the saddest thing I have ever heard." Anne laid back onto the crate, opening her eyes to watch the clouds rolling. "I think I might cry…"

"I want to say something to him…but I'm not sure I should. It might make him feel worse, and besides, I wouldn't want him to get into trouble."

"Trouble?" Anne glanced over.

"I think the workers would get in trouble if they stopped to talk to passengers. They aren't supposed to bother us." Diana explained.

"Oh." Anne recalled passing some of her uneaten tea treats to some workers on deck earlier that day. She felt bad now, what if they had gotten in trouble for taking them? "That probably means I shouldn't talk to him either."

"Definitely not." Diana said. "Not now that I told you about his farm. I really shouldn't have said anything at all."

"No, I'm glad you told me." Anne nodded. "I find that I'll be able to properly focus on my literary endeavors now that my curiosity is sustained."

"You sure talk awfully funny, Anne." Diana laughed.

Anne felt a sting, looking at Diana in mild shock. That was the same sort of thing the other girls said back home, but it sounded so much harsher from them. As Anne looked at her, she noticed Diana was giving her a strange look, as if Anne confused her. She was used to that. But Diana was also smiling, as if she enjoyed it.

"Do you…" Anne started awkwardly. "Do you think that…maybe, you could like me?"

"I already do!" Diana smiled at her.

"Well, I liked you too!" Anne smiled.

Minnie May complained she was hungry, so it was time for Diana to take her to get dinner. After swearing they'd play again tomorrow, Anne sat back down and opened her notebook. She was now incredibly inspired.

Gilbert… Anne decided that was the perfect name, but for a knight, not a prince. She began scrawling story notes in the notebook margins.

Maybe Wisteria was an imposter, and the real prince had given up his crown in order to join the kingdom's army and defend his home. The blessed sword was Gilbert's, and Wisteria stole it from the barracks.

Anne was so into her work that she only looked up when her pencil point broke. The sun was sinking, and the sea breeze was much colder now. She better get back to her cabin.

She walked down the empty deck towards the stairs that led up to the first class cabin. She hummed to herself, mentally choreographing the final duel between Wisteria and Gilbert, where Wisteria's blessed sword would sense its true wielder's presence and change allegiances mid-battle.

"Hey, miss…"

Anne slowed and looked back over her shoulder at the voice. Gilbert was following behind her. Anne felt her heart pound, that is, until she remembered everything Diana had said. She didn't want him to get in trouble.

So Anne kept walking. Gilbert followed.

"Miss…"

When Anne sped up, so did he. Anne clutched her notebook to her chest and willed her heart to stop pounding, a blush deepening on her cheeks. She longed to talk, she really did, but he wouldn't want to talk to her if he ever knew she was aware of his situation.

"I can't talk to you." Anne said quickly under her breath, speeding up again.

"But—" Gilbert came closer behind her, and Anne's eyes widened just slightly as she felt him tug on a lock of her hair blown back by the wind. "Hey Carrots—"

"I said I can't talk to you!" Anne whirled around, and before she realized what she was doing, her notebook slapped him across the face.

Gilbert stumbled back a step. His eyes, wide with disbelief, locked into hers. One hand lifted to his stinging cheek as Anne realized in horror what she'd done.

"You just did." He held something out in his other hand. Anne looked to it and recognized the cuff of one of her gloves. "Here. You dropped this."

"Oh." It was all Anne could say as she held out her hand and he dropped the glove into it. "Thanks."

Still shocked, Anne watched him turn and walk down the stairs and disappear into the hold below. Anne finally looked down at her notebook. A smudge of coal was across the red cover.

Trying to hold in a flurry of emotions, Anne clutched her book and glove to her chest and ran towards the cabin. She was both suddenly not hungry, and very uninspired.

Gilbert stared at the dark ceiling in the bunk room. Usually, he was exhausted and face to sleep despite the uncomfortable hammocks, heat, and grime that clung to his clothes. But he wasn't tired now. Dazed a better term.

His heart was pounding and he was grateful it was dark, so no one else could see how he was unable to wipe the smile from his face.

He managed to be a favorite to the head shoreman after a few days of shoveling coal. He calluses on his hands from farm tools protected his hands beneath gloves as he worked and the smoke he breathed kept his lungs too busy to talk to anyone else. Silent hard workers were the shoreman's favorite.

They said the best part about above-deck work was being away from the fire, but Gilbert had walked right into more fire.

The girl was like fire in many ways. Her hair, for one. Gilbert had never seen anything like it, and had certainly never thought he'd find it so beautiful.

Her spirit was definitely ablaze too. The stinging in his cheek proved that well enough. He grinned in the darkness as it replayed again in his mind. He knew it had been wrong to tease her, but really he'd only wanted her attention. The rise he'd gotten out of her was worth it.

"Hey Bash?" Gilbert sat up and looked over at his friend's hammock.

"Go to sleep Blythe." Bash mumbled, turning over.

"Sorry." Gilbert grinned and laid back.

"And quit smiling like a mook."

"I'm not—you can't even see me!" Gilbert watched as if to make a point, Bash sat up and looked at him. In the dim light, Gilbert could see him glare.

"I know what you're thinking, but get your head out of the clouds. You're lucky no one else saw you bothering that girl."

"I didn't bother her." Gilbert said, knowing that wasn't entirely true. Well, if he had bothered her, then she had definitely bothered him in return.

Yet the strange mix of offense and euphoria following their interaction had been squashed when he'd returned to the hold. When he felt a firm hand yank him by the upper arm, he'd expected to get chewed out by their boss, but it had only been Bash, who then proceeded to scold him.

"Tell that to the bruise on your face." Bash jabbed a finger at him. "If you wanna keep your spot in the boss' good books, I suggest you lay low, go back to shoveling coal for a little while."

"I can't do that." Gilbert shook his head. "Harrison already told me to work the deck until we get to the next port, and it'll look really bad if I ask to switch back to the engines. Besides, I have to see her again…"

"You're really crazy." Bash laid back down, lowering his voice. "She didn't seem to take to you at all, and didn't you realize what she was?"

"What?"

"A rich girl." Bash said. "A girl like her on the first class deck probably can't wait to dock in some big city and get off this thing."

"A cute girl is a cute girl." Gilbert mumbled. "Doesn't matter where she's from."

"Well it will when she catches you stalking her again, and I'm not gonna cover for you. Not when you're pushing your little white-boy luck already. If you get shoved off at the next stop after Harrison catches you, don't go crying."

"Whatever." Gilbert snapped, rolling over and closing his eyes.

This time, his heart pounded in anger. He willed it to stop, waiting as Bash finally went still and fell asleep. Gilbert knew he should get some rest too, but he couldn't.

He knew Bash was right. He was lucky that the girl had chased him off herself and not ran to tattle to someone of authority. He really should lay low, seeing her again was a risk.

But a girl who would take a whack at him was special. A girl who'd carry her own suitcase was special.

If not actually rich, Gilbert knew she had to have at least some money, even if it had all been used on her families' tickets. Another show of her status was the fact that he'd seen her hanging out with Diana Barry.

He had nothing against Diana personally, even if her father did drop all contact with his after the orchard fire. Diana was kind, but she was also rich too. Everyone knew she'd attend finishing school after they graduated, so the red-haired girl was probably going onto a similar path as well.

A flash of fire, Gilbert recalled seeing the girl jumping around on the deck as if she were playing out a battle.

"_En garde, Wisteria!" _Her voice had carried to him over the wind, her hair billowed out behind her like flickering flames.

She wasn't anything like Avonlea girls. That wasn't the kind of things Avonlea girls did, even if Diana had seem amused. This girl was special.

Making up his mind as he fell asleep, Gilbert vowed to see her again. Even if just to apologize. He could tell that Diana had been avoiding him, but if he approached her first, maybe she'd tell him about that girl. He at least wanted to address her by name when he apologized.

He'd have to be discreet. He needed to stay in line, but also on good terms with Bash. He'd been taken somewhat under the man's wings since he started, and he'd hate to lose that, especially now that he was apart from his parents.

After a while, Gilbert finally managed to fall asleep with a spirited fire still burning in his mind and in his heart.


	3. Chapter 3

The sun was barely rising as Gilbert hauled buckets up the stairs to the deck and began scrubbing. Even as his knees grew sore and staring down at the scuffmarks of rich people's shoes wore on his self-esteem, he had to admit it wasn't the worst job on the Osprey.

As dawn approached completely, Gilbert could hear the stirrings of passengers as well as see the dark line of shore in the distance. He felt something tighten in his heart. They were approaching their first port, and he'd yet to talk to the red-haired girl. He had no idea if she was getting off there, but he couldn't risk it either way.

Gilbert kept working, trying to clean at a pace that would allow him time to spot Diana, but that also wasn't too slow to where he'd get chewed out by his supervisor.

The rich men on the deck ignored Gilbert and instead came out in the sun to light their first smokes of the day. A while later, the wives came out. Gilbert was running out of work to do on the deck, and yet, still no sign of the girl or Diana.

His prayers were answered when he pretended to rearrange a stack of crates and saw someone run by. He recognized Diana's little sister, but could not remember her name.

"Hey, little girl!" Gilbert called, ducking down a bit so that no one else would notice him. She stopped in her skipping and looked over at him.

"What do you want?"

"Can you go get Diana for me?"

"What's in it for me?" She put her hands on her hips.

Gilbert was taken aback for a moment. Did she seriously want something from him? He thought of the small amount of money he still had, but there was no way he was giving any of it to some little kid. Luckily, he didn't have to contemplate that. Diana came up behind her sister and grabbed her hand.

"Minnie May you have to stay by me, remember?" She said firmly before glancing up and seeing Gilbert. Her eyebrows shot up a bit in surprise.

"Hi." Gilbert said.

"Hello." Diana blinked. "Um… it's nice to see you."

"Nice to see you too." Gilbert knew he had soap water soaking through the knees of his pants and he didn't exactly look his best, but she wasn't the type to point that out. "I didn't realize you were leaving Avonlea."

"Nor did I realize you were." She countered.

"Right," Gilbert rubbed the back of his neck and glanced away. "Well, I didn't really want to spread it around."

"Neither did I, about my departure, I mean." Diana said. They stared at each other for a moment as Minnie May tugged on Diana's hand with boredom.

"Who's that redheaded girl?" Gilbert finally blurted.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Yes, I would." Gilbert nodded. He felt sweat bead at his temple as she regarded him with an almost amused look. The morning sun seemed to beat down harder on the back of his neck to the sound of her light laughter.

"Her name is Anne Shirley. She's from Halifax." Diana said finally.

"Thanks." He nodded, committing this all to memory. He'd now just have to find a way to talk to her. "Sorry for bothering you." He turned away and was ready to get back to work when Diana stopped him.

"Wait, Gilbert… are you alright? Working here, I mean?"

Gilbert looked at her for a moment, his worn hands hidden in his pockets. He thought of the ache in his heart for his home, of the way he still wasn't used to being on a place that moved, to a different kind of labor, or to be without his mother's ruffling of his hair or his father's embrace.

"Sure." He forced a smile. "I'm fine."

Anne sighed heavily, tacking on as much extra misery as she could muster. Yet, as she turned over her shoulder, her mother only gave her an amused smile.

"Annie, it's not that difficult. I thought you liked math?" Bertha crossed her arms over her chest.

"I do like math." Anne said. "I'm just having trouble focusing. Honestly Mother, there's an entire world of possibilities approaching on that distant shore, and math is so very mundane in comparison."

"Well, get it done now, and you'll actually be able to go explore when we get to the port. I mean it dear, when we say school comes before play, even on vacation."

"Yes, Ma'am." Anne knew she was serious, and she did want to get this done, it was just that half of her mind was fighting her.

She glanced up at the tiny window in their cabin. They were so high up that Anne only saw blueish sky and wispy grey clouds. Forcing her mind to her work, Anne turned back to the books and paper she had set up on the small table and picked up her pencil.

Anne did not dare drift, did not dare glance towards her notebook within the stack of her school books, nor did she think of Gilbert. She'd spent the previous night in a turmoil, just waiting for the reproductions of striking him, but no one had thrown her into any brig. The Osprey probably didn't even have a brig.

She was just finishing the chapter when there was a knock on their cabin door. Anne turned in her seat to get up, but Bertha held up a finger. Anne frowned as stayed still as her mother went to answer it.

The cabin room was so small, just a single room with two beds, a dresser, and table, that Anne was able to look over and see Diana and hear their whole conversation.

"Oh, hello Diana." Bertha said. "I'm afraid Anne is studying right now and can't play."

"Of course, Mrs. Shirley. I was just wondering if I could tell Anne something very quickly? It's rather important, and it will only take just a second."

Anne didn't dare speak up and add that she and Diana were practically grown women, and didn't _play_ anyways, and their time together did include reenacting stories, but that was for Anne's career. She just stayed quiet, but gave her mother large begging eyes when she looked over.

"Well, alright, but just for a minute."

"Thank you!" Anne jumped up and ran over to the door. She stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind her.

"Anne!" Diana practically squealed. "Gilbert asked me about you!"

"What?" Anne's eyes widened and she felt her face flush. "W-What do you mean he asked about me? What did he say?"

"He asked me who you were, I think he wants to talk to you." Diana grinned.

"I—" Anne was suddenly aware of her mother in the room behind her and the thin cabin walls. As if understanding, Diana gestured for her to follow her down the hall to her own family's room, which was currently empty. "This is...unbelievable."

Anne sat down on one of the beds. Diana stayed by the door, leaning slightly against the wall to watch for when her parents came back. Anne understood she still wasn't exactly the most welcome guest for the Barrys just yet.

"He must have noticed you noticing him yesterday." Diana seemed absolutely elated, but Anne knew she might think the whole thing differently if she knew what Anne had done.

Was that what Gilbert wanted to talk to her about? She had to approach him first, apologize before he had the chance to get angry. Even if it didn't change anything, it was the right thing to do.

"I have to talk to him." Anne jumped up.

"Now?" Diana smiled in surprise.

"Yes, now." Anne went for the door just as Eliza Barry returned with Minnie May trailing behind her.

"Oh. Hello Anne."

"Hello." Anne nodded. "I was, uh, just leaving…"

"I'm bored!" Minnie May stomped her foot.

"Come on, Minnie May." Diana picked up a doll off of one of the beds. "I'll play with you a little while."

Anne wondered if Diana felt guilty about expressing resentment over her sister's illness, and that's why she was being so nice. Either way, Anne bid them goodbye and went back outside. She was just constructing some elaborate plan in her mind to distract the other workers so that she could talk to Gilbert when her mother opened their cabin door.

"Annie, homework." She gently reminded her.

Anne abandoned her plans and followed her mother without complaining. Besides, she'd need more time to think of what to say, and she didn't want any math problems hanging over her head.

It wasn't until dinner time that Anne was freed from the prison of geometry. She and her parents went to the first class lounge for dinner and Anne waited until her parents weren't looking to wrap her desert up in a napkin and put it in her bag.

After dinner as the adults had coffee and tea, Anne and Diana stood by the large windows of the lounge that overlooked one of the decks.

"I'm going." Anne said as she spotted Gilbert down below. Several other worker were with him, but this was the closest she'd get to alone for now. "Diana, can you make sure I'm not missed?"

Diana swore she'd cover for Anne with her parents as Anne went outside and started down the long stairs to the deck below. She stayed low, trying to stay hidden until the last possible moment.

"That's the last one Blythe." A man said as Anne ducked behind a short wall and peered around to see Gilbert standing over a crate. "Need a hand?"

"Maybe—" Gilbert glanced up and caught Anne's eye. Anne tried to ignore the pounding in her heart as she beckoned to him. "No. No, I got it."

The other men took their loads down below, leaving Anne and Gilbert alone for the briefest of seconds. She darted across the open deck, exposed for a moment before she reached the crate. Anne and Gilbert looked at each other for a moment.

"Hey—"

"I'm sorry—"

"No, I'm sorry—"

"You first." Gilbert said and Anne took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry about yesterday. I didn't mean to, you know, to you…" Anne felt her face go even redder as Gilbert actually laughed.

"It's my fault, I shouldn't have teased you." He shrugged, grinning at her.

"Yes, well, no you shouldn't have. You're lucky I outgrew my hang-ups about my red hair, or I likely would have never forgiven being called such a name."

"Right, I'm really sorry." He glanced back awkwardly. "If that's everything, then I should…"

"Wait." She dropped the lock of hair she'd curled around her finger and looked at him. "Have you ever been anyone's muse or inspiration before?"

"What?" He looked at her for a moment, and then as if he were actually processing the question before answering. "No, I can't say I have."

"Well, you are now." Anne smiled. "I'd like to use your likeness for my story, since you remind me of the most chivalrous character, and it just must be fate. See, we came on this trip so my father and I could work on our novels, only I've been struck with an ever-so tragical case of writer's block since we got here, and well, then I saw you…"

He was looking at her in a way making it hard for her to determine if he was confused, flattered, or both. He was smiling, though, causing her blush to stay and making it hard for her to meet his gaze.

"You want to put me in your story?" He asked.

"With your permission, of course." Anne nodded. "I'd just need to ask you some questions, get to know you, so the character is as believable as possible."

"I'd…I'd really love to." Gilbert looked over his shoulder. "It's just that I can't slack off any."

"Of course not. But, when we dock tomorrow, you'll have the whole day off, right?"

"Most of it." He nodded. "But, I have stuff I need to do."

"As do I, but I was hoping we could find the time to talk?" Anne smiled, and this time she could have sworn she saw color tingeing his own pale face. "And I could bring you something for a fare trade."

"Oh, I really don't want any—" He held up his hands as Anne reached into her shoulder bag for the wrapped up cake.

"It's vanilla." She held it out and he blinked in surprise. "It's from the lounge, so it's fresh. Please take it, I've already had enough."

"Cake. Thanks." He took it from her and Anne smiled. "Okay, meet me on the pier at six o'clock tomorrow, I should be free by then."

"Okay." Anne nodded, feeling a rush of excitement. "See you then. I should probably get back." She turned and went to run towards the stairs before looking back. "I'm Anne, by the way."

"I know." He smiled. "I'm Gilbert."

"I know."

The fact that he'd only be working for the first few hours tomorrow, meant Gilbert wasn't as rushed to fall asleep. In the dim light of a lamp, he was trying to finish a letter to his parents, but there were many things flashing through his mind.

"She said what, again?" Bash laughed.

"That she wants to put me in a story she's writing." Gilbert told him. "Well, my likeness, whatever that means."

"Maybe I had both of you wrong. You're not the crazy one, she is."

"Come on, it's a compliment, isn't it? When someone wants to put you in their art?" Gilbert wrote something and then crossed it out. "Besides, I didn't hear you mock it when I gave you that cake."

"Eh, so she's not as stuck up as I thought. I still think it's odd. What kinda story's gonna have a pasty kid like you in it?"

"I don't know, I didn't ask." Gilbert rolled his eyes. "But you don't look a gift horse in the mouth when a cute girl wants to spend time with you."

"Just glad you had the sense to do it on your off time." Bash said.

Gilbert was silent for a moment, working on his letter. He had just written a bit about the work so far, but reading it back again definitely made it sound like he wasn't enjoying it too much, and he wasn't, but he didn't want them to know that.

"What should I say to them?" He sighed to himself.

"Why don't you ask your girlfriend to help you write your letter, since she got such a way with words?" Bash laughed.

"I'm serious." Gilbert turned in his hammock so that his legs dangled over the side and he could see Bash clearly. "I don't want my parents to worry about me, but I'm afraid if I make it sound like I've got it good, then they won't be honest about how _they're _doing. Like, is my mother sick, how's my father's leg?"

"You want to worry about them, but don't want them worrying about you?" Bash laid back in his hammock and closed his eyes.

"Yes."

"Be honest." Bash yawned. "Then they'll be honest too. In the end though, you just gotta hope they're okay. You're on your own, so you gotta worry about you first."

"Yeah." Gilbert took the pencil from behind his ear and then glanced up at Bash and smiled as he placed the point down to the paper. "I'm not really alone, though."

He ended up telling his parents that the work was hard, yet rewarding. That was the same kind of thing his father always said at harvest, so hopefully they wouldn't worry too much about him being in over his head. He asked how they were doing, but not in a way that sounded like he was overly worried.

As Gilbert finished up the letter, he saw that his fingers had left smudged of coal all over the paper, but he didn't have time to rewrite it. Hoping they wouldn't read too much into that, Gilbert folded the letter in half and put it in his jacket pocket for tomorrow.

The Osprey docked at dawn in Ammont. Gilbert rose with the other workers and helped to haul the cargo both in and out of the ship. They were done just as the passengers would be rising and rushing down to experience the first feel of land in a week.

Gilbert lined up behind Bash, at the very back of the line, as they were to collect their first payments from Harrison. He hadn't asked Bash how much he was to expect, as low expectations meant he wasn't likely to be disappointed.

He thought that would be the case, until Harrison got to Gilbert and handed him a small stack of bills. Gilbert leafed through it happily, until he realized how much it was.

"Excuse me," Gilbert turned back to Harrison, hearing Bash sigh as he walked off. "Are you sure there's not some sort of mistake?"

"Look kid, you're young." Harrison turned and jabbed Gilbert in the shoulder hard with a finger as thick as the cigar hanging from his mouth. "Other men here got families to support."

"So do I." Gilbert said. "My parents—"

"Kids." Harrison said. "They got kids. Just take your share and shut up. Unless you wanna be shoving coal until next port?"

"No." Gilbert thought of Anne and then pushed the image away. "No, I, um. I get it. Thank you, Sir."

Face burning with anger and shame, Gilbert turned away and jogged to catch up with Bash who was following some of the other workers away from the docks and towards the city. With the way some of them were chatting about finding the nearest pub, Gilbert knew they weren't worried about their kids.

"This is…ridiculous." Gilbert muttered to Bash. "They're just going to go get drunk, is that all they work for?"

"Quit complaining, Blythe. You probably got twice what I did."

"Why? Because I scrubbed the deck?"

"Because you—" Bash stopped in his tracks and looked back at Gilbert. "No, you mook. Take another guess. Another close look at me…"

"Because…" Gilbert blinked as it clicked. "But, that's not fair! Is that even legal?"

"You are the most naïve little farm boy I've ever known." Bash laughed. Gilbert felt a sting, unsure how that was supposed to be funny. Maybe Bash as just desensitized to it at this point.

"At least on the farm we got to eat some of the profit." Gilbert felt a twinge of a smile at remembering the apple pies.

"That actually sounds nice." Bash said. "Wouldn't mind settling down somewhere where you grow your own food and ain't got to deal with nobody else."

"Well it's only sort of like that in Avonlea. It's not that there's no one else. It's actually sort of neighborly. Everyone pitches in, it's a real community."

"That don't sound too bad, neither."

After finding the post office and mailing his letter and money, Gilbert went to take what little he kept to buy something to eat as he explored, enjoying the feel of sun that didn't come with sweat from working.

Ammont was a lot like Charlottetown, Gilbert thought as he explored. Being sea side, most shops wanted to cater to the influx of sailors by selling cheap food right by the docks, which Gilbert took advantage of. There were cars and horses cutting through the streets and Gilbert had to wait for a free second to dart across.

When Gilbert stopped to pet a particularly friendly horse, Bash jumped back and watched the horse's muzzle with narrowed eyes, as if he feared his fingers getting bitten off. Gilbert made a show of laughing at him.

He and Bash parted ways and Gilbert watched him disappear down an alley made of wooden planks resting across the mud. He knew those types of slums were no place for someone like him, and he wondered why Bash would want to go somewhere like that, but he didn't feel comfortable asking.

Deeper into the city, were all things he didn't have the money for. Things like clothes stores and pawnshops. Gilbert got bored of window shopping and went back towards the main street.

The sun was setting and the sailor he asked for the time reported that his pocket watch read ten past six. Gilbert leaned against a post on the peer and sipped from the tiny cup of coffee that as serving as dinner- he wasn't the Osprey's mouth to feed off duty

As it got dark, Gilbert shoved his hands into the pockets of his thin jacket and wondered if Anne was just pulling his leg, when he finally saw her approach. She stopped and looked around with urgency, smiling and waving with enthusiasm when she caught sight of him.

"Sorry." She ran over, one hand on the strap of her bag, the other keeping her hat from flying off. "I had to shake my parents at dinner. I hope you weren't waiting long?"

"No trouble." He smiled. "So…that stuff you wanted to ask me?"

"Right, well I'll need the proper venue for the literary muse." She turned back. "Follow me, I need something with sugar."

"Didn't you just eat?" Gilbert didn't like the idea of sitting in a restaurant with his current state of empty pockets.

"My parents insisted on some upscale place with little tables, but I've had enough of fancy stuff for a while, besides I believe the arrangement dictates your desert is on me?" Anne smiled at him with such genuineness that it was hard to feel guilt.

Gilbert followed Anne, as she seemed to know where she was going. She stopped on the edge of the sidewalk and darted across the road with such abruptness that he was often several seconds behind her, and on the safety of the other side with just a half-second to spare. She definitely had the sense of direction of a big city girl.

They slowed to a brisk walk as they seemed to get closer, and Gilbert took the few seconds to watch her out of the corner of her eye. Their differences just in dress were glaring. Other than her crimson curls having fallen slightly limp over the day, she looked pristine. Her blue dress and coat were lined with plaid fabric and the crocheted hat on her head had a little puff ball on it, reminding him even more of Scotland.

It was definitely a contrast to himself. His boots, which were once his father's, were now so worn that he could feel the weather through them when it was wet enough. His shirt was a mess of coal stains and both tails were untucked. The only thing that was clean was his jacket, and that was only because it was too hot to wear it in the engine room. Hopefully the fact that he was wearing it now would hide some of his stains.

If Anne noticed anything about his clothes, she didn't show it. She just looked at him with another excited grin as they neared a place.

"Here we are." She said.

Gilbert followed her inside to a small restaurant and bar. A fire roared by a hearth and there were a few people drinking in chairs by it. There was a woman strumming on guitar and Anne immediately began to sway, whether she realized it or not.

They sat down in a booth by a window. Anne pulled out the same notebook she'd smacked him with and laid it out on the table and brought out a fountain pen.

"Okay, so—" She started, only to be interrupted when someone came over.

"You kids want something?" He asked.

"Yes, do you have ginger tea?" Anne asked, tapping her pen against her chin.

"We got raspberry." He lifted a shoulder indifferently. "It's got berries in it."

"Real raspberries!?" Anne asked.

In that moment, with the enthusiasm shining so unabashedly on her face, Gilbert couldn't help but smile in her direction. All those thoughts he'd had before when they met, about her being special, were flooding back to him.

"You?" The server glanced at Gilbert and he quickly forced the ridiculous smile off his face.

"Um…" He looked at Anne, still a bit uncomfortable about her treating him.

"He'll have the same thing." Anne cut in before smiling at him.

The server left, leaving Gilbert wondering what exactly it was that she'd ordered, as he hadn't actually been listening to that part, but she then opened her notebook and launched right into it.

"So…" Anne put the pen down on the paper.

"So…"

"So," She smiled up at him. "I bet you're wondering about the story… well, not a lot of it is currently fleshed out, but I can tell you that Sir Gilbert probably has the most important role. If that's okay, I mean."

"Sir? Wait, he's not working on a boat in the story?" Gilbert asked.

"Boat?" She looked up and laughed. "No, you've got it all wrong. He's like you, but he's not _like _you. My story takes place in Scotland, sixteenth century, give or late some anachronisms."

"Scotland?" Gilbert chuckled. "Yeah, I thought you were Scottish."

"My parents are Scottish." She said.

"But you've got the accent, sort of."

"I do not." Her cheeks went pink.

"Yes, like the way you say _raspberry._" He teased with a laugh, only pulling back when he thought she was going to slug him. Instead, she just looked like she was trying very hard not to laugh.

"Well, you're Scottish too, in the story. At least, I think. I might change it later. So, where are you from?"

"What does that matter if we're Scottish?" He asked. She looked up at him with just a glare that he immediately felt compelled to answer. "Alberta. I was born in Alberta, but I don't remember it. We left when I was a baby, but we still visit…used to, I mean, when we had family there."

To his surprise, Anne wrote that down. She asked him a few more questions about him, and Gilbert was waiting to have to drop the bombshell about his family's orchard, but she seemed to be conveniently skirting around that.

"He gave up the crown, everything to do what was right, you see? They'd never let someone in the royal family on the front lines, but Gilbert couldn't just let everyone else defend his home for him, you know?"

Anne was explaining the plot to her story now, as Gilbert sipped tea from a glass. There really were real raspberries in it. He hadn't had anything this nice in ages. The two pieces of cake they'd ordered had been eaten right away, but it seemed Anne as too engrossed to remember about her tea.

"Sounds like you've thought a lot about this." Gilbert said. He was impressed even if he couldn't quite understand it. Still, the way her mind seemed to bloom these ideas out of the mundane thing that was his life really was admirable.

"Well, you're a big help." She looked up at from her writing, only to blush and glance back down at him. "I-It's just, that I'm sure everything will be more compelling if it's based on real people. I think that's what I was missing for so long. Diana tried to help, really she did, but she doesn't know a thing about writing stories. She kept suggesting character's die, just because she didn't know what else to do with them. Anyways, being on the ship has definitely helped, too. There was nothing inspiring back home, it was so boring."

"Yeah, not a lot of dragons around Halifax, I imagine." He mused. Anne's pen stooped in its tracks and she looked up at him as if awe and with something else he couldn't read. He immediately wondered if she'd misunderstood him as making fun of her. "What? What did I say?"

"Nothing.. it's nothing." She said after a moment, shaking her head slightly as if dazed and going back to her book.

Gilbert wondered now if she was nervous. She was writing fast, as if she were afraid the muse would escape her if she were to wait until later, and every time she glanced up at him, the blush on her face seemed to spread.

It was adorable. She was adorable. He took a sip of tea and leaned forward, trying to see what she was writing. Her curly script was difficult to decipher from upside down, but he managed.

"_We are parting ways?" Cordelia hoped greatly that he would take the hint of her free hand. Gilbert did take it, not just in one of his, but cradled in both._

"_Just for now. Until next time?" He then lifted her hand to his face, brushing the back of it along his face before placing a kiss—_

Anne shut the notebook, cutting Gilbert's view. He leaned back and drank his tea, pretending he hadn't been looking at all. His gaze landed on the woman with the guitar. She was strumming softly for the drinking men, two of whom had passed out asleep.

"About this…Gilbert," He leaned in, biting back a smile. "He was the prince before he was a soldier?"

"Right, before he left his crown to his cousin Wisteria." She affirmed.

"Well, then he'd still remember how to do a lot of royal activities, right?"

"I suppose?"

"Stuff you need to research to be able to write about?" He encouraged.

She looked at him, blinking in confusion, until he stood up. She followed him uncertainly until he approached the woman playing guitar. It was then that Gilbert realized he wasn't as confident in these skills at he'd been just second ago, leaving him to request the one song for dance they'd learned in school as he dropped his last copper into the jar at the woman's feet.

"Dashing White Sergeant?" He suggested hopefully.

The woman smiled in approval and began to play. Gilbert turned back and offered his hand to Anne. Anne looked taken aback in surprise for only half a second before slipping her hand into his.

He thanked God and Mrs. Lynde for drilling this dance into their heads, even if it was just so his class didn't make an embarrassment of Avonlea at the county fair, as he took her hands in his and circled to the music.

She didn't seem to know a country dance, not to Gilbert's surprise, meaning she let him lead and there were no qualms. When the music slowed, they walked closer, shoulder meeting shoulder. He took her hands again then.

He was unaware of the world around them. Of the server cleaning glasses behind the bar watching them with the almost-anger of jealousy of lost youth. Of the sailors who slept on, or of the woman who was playing for a dancing couple with the enthusiasm of someone who'd only ever wanted to do that.

He forgot all about the ache of the labor, of the flames of the furnace or the fire that had burnt down his family's orchard. He was almost thankful for it as he twirled her, her hair flowing out behind her in the light of the fireplace.

And then the music slowed, and so did Anne, her skirt no longer billowing, her hair falling down around her shoulders. The music stopped and their hands parted, Gilbert's lingering for half a second. They were still alone in the world for that second, until Anne turned to the guitarist and clapped enthusiastically.

"That was wonderful!" Anne said.

"Thank ya' miss!" The woman bowed.

Gilbert looked at her, unsure of what to say. His heart was still pounding in tune to the music. She was looking at him, her face pink beneath her freckles. He opened his mouth to say something when the door opened.

"Anne!"

They both jumped and looked over. Diana was in the doorway, leaning over and breathing heavily. Her hair ribbon had fallen out, likely in the run, and she was clutching it one hand.

"Your parents… are looking for you…" She panted. "I told them… you were with me…"

"Oh, I didn't even realize the time!" Anne went to their booth and grabbed up her coat and bag, shoving her notebook into it as she fumbled to put the strap over her shoulder. "I better find them before my mother works herself up into a conniption."

"Ay kids! Get lost if you're done buying stuff!" The bar tender growled.

Gilbert followed the girls outside, the warmth of the entire evening vanishing into the cold dark night. And then it was back as Anne beamed at him.

"Thanks so much for… you know, everything."

"No problem." He smiled.

"Anne, come on." Diana said urgently, grabbing for her hand.

"See you!" Anne waved as Diana pulled her into a run down the sidewalk. In the second-most daring act of bravery that evening, Gilbert called after her.

"Until next time!"

His heart pounded and he was only sure she understood the reference when she looked back at him with a smile that sliced through the cold. Gilbert carried that warmth the rest of the walk back.


	4. Chapter 4

Anne sat across from Diana on the bed she shared with her sister. Minnie May was on the floor nearby, playing with her doll. Once again, it was up to Diana to babysit, which was why Anne had offered to keep her company.

Anne's own responsibility in the form of homework had been brought along, but the stack of textbooks lay untouched on the bedside table. Her notebook lay open on her lap as she wrote.

"_She was flying—Cordelia had never experienced such a rush before, and certainly never with Wisteria. Her feet did not feel as if they were touching the floor. The only thing that existed were Gilbert's hands in hers."_

"He danced with you?" Diana was still unable to fully process everything Anne had told her about last night's events.

"It was for the story." Anne insisted, her pen still moving across the page.

"Still, Gilbert never seemed the type to do that. He always seemed so quiet at school. I never thought him the dancing type, he must really like you." Diana smirked. Anne blushed but didn't look up. "I mean, we all danced at school for lessons but that was just the Dashing White Sergeant."

"That's what we danced to." Anne finally glanced up. "Even if it was just something he knew from school, I think it was more exciting than a waltz for my story, no offense to how we became acquainted." Anne grinned and so did Diana.

Anne tried to go back to finishing the chapter, but her mind had gone frazzled. She was too aware of Diana watching her and she had lost that headspace of fantasy.

"Just for your story?" Diana asked. "Is that all you talked to him for?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well I thought you had a crush on Gilbert."

Diana said it with such insistence, as if it were so obvious. Anne could not keep the color from spreading over her face. She pictured the person in her story, with his messy curls and his eyes full of all the emotions he didn't say. He was quiet sometimes, but Cordelia had a way of reading him.

All of that was of course based on what Anne had perceived, and Cordelia's intensely curious and new feelings were what Anne felt—how else would Anne know how to describe them? She was reminded of what she'd written in her first draft of her last essay, that she wanted to experience great romance. There was a reason she'd crossed it out.

Anne sighed in defeat, looking up at Diana and closing her notebook. She dropped her voice very low so that Minnie May wouldn't overhear. She seemed to be in her own world anyways.

"Diana, can I trust you with a tragic tale of my past?" Anne asked.

"Yes, of course." Diana seemed taken aback at first, blinking in surprise before leaning in closer.

"Swear you will not tell another soul." Anne held out her pinky finger. Diana linked hers with it and they locked eyes. Anne managed a smile. "The truth is… my heart is hardened. I had a most tragical break before, and I do not wish to repeat it."

"You've had your heart broken?" Diana gasped.

"It was several years ago." Anne dropped her voice to a whisper now and Diana had to lean in further. "I believed myself to be in love with a boy in my school. His father was a friend of my father's from his publishing house, and I saw him outside of school a lot too. And, well, it was easy to believe at thirteen years old that he was the love of my life."

"What happened?" Diana asked softly.

"I suppose it got around school, how I felt about Ian. I didn't truly mind, as I couldn't keep a secret even more so back then. And then Ian found out. He told me he wanted…" Anne forced the words out, knowing she could trust Diana. "That he wanted to kiss me, and I should meet him behind the school one day, so I did."

"…And?" Diana gently pressed, her brows furrowed in worry.

"I waited behind the school for Ian, and he came." Anne bit her lip, holding in the resurfaced rage of it all. "And he brought his friends and they all laughed at me!"

"Oh, Anne, that's horrible!"

"I know…"Anne clutched the notebook to her chest, muttering with her eyes cast down. "I cried to my parents, and well, they got upset. My father confronted Ian's father and it was just so humiliating, and it took ages for everyone at school to forget!" Anne dropped the notebook back open onto her lap and uncapped her pen. "So, I'd rather not go through anything of the sort ever again, even if it means my first kiss will forever stay on my lips like an unplucked rose."

Anne knew it was pointless to hold that grudge after so many years, but it was more than just anger. She still remembered the way Ian had laughed and called her a freckle faced witch.

It was only being so close to her mother, who shared her complexion, that made Anne believe she wasn't really ugly. After all, she thought her mother was beautiful, and Ian was just one boy, but still it left a scar.

"Anne, you know not all boys are like that." Diana placed a hand on Anne's knee.

"I know, and I do hope to experience true love someday… soon… it's just that I'd rather not make any assumptions and embarrass myself again. It's just easier to focus on Cordelia's love life over my own."

Anne went back to her notebook. She was too frazzled to write, so she focused on doodling a sketch of the titular blessed sword from her story. Diana watched her for a while before glancing up, an amused smile on her face.

"You know, maybe it's a good thing you don't like Gilbert like that. It's better for Ruby."

"Who's Ruby?" Anne asked, drawing a straight line for the blade.

"A girl from our class who's in love with Gilbert."

"What?!" Anne dropped the pen, leaving dots of ink across the bedspread. Diana clamped a hand over her mouth in laughter.

"Yes, she makes it a rule that no other girls in the class are allowed to talk to Gilbert or even look at him. But she herself is so nervous around him that's she said about three words to him in just as many years."

"That's…" Anne had finally settled on giving Cordelia the looks of the most beautiful girl she knew, which was why she shared Diana's shimmering locks like the star belt across the midnight sky. She now pictured another girl with this look. This Ruby.

Was this Ruby waiting back in Avonlea for Gilbert to return from sea? Perhaps she was brave enough now to make her feelings known. Anne pictured her wrapping her arms around him, hanging onto his shoulders as well as every word as he told her how happy he was to be back home.

The thought of it all stirred something inside of Anne, something she didn't like. She wasn't one to dwell on the negative feelings, especially those of jealousy, but in this case perhaps it served somewhat of a useful purpose.

"I do not like the sound of that." Anne admitted, earning another laugh from Diana.

"So you _do _like Gilbert?" She asked.

"Well…" Anne couldn't stop the blush and smile from spreading across her face. "There was a moment when we were dancing. His hands felt so warm, and our eyes locked, and I honestly forgot about Cordelia entirely."

"Oh, that's so romantic!" Diana practically squealed.

"And he's awfully handsome, isn't he?" Anne sighed wistfully, earning another laugh in delight from Diana.

There was a knock on the door and Minnie May jumped up to answer it. Anne knew it was likely her parents coming to check on how she was faring on homework, so it was no surprise to see her father. Walter Shirley smiled down at Minnie May.

"Hello handsome man." Minnie May held her doll up. "Dance with me!"

"Minnie May!" Diana got up to grab her sister's hand. Anne turned even redder, knowing Minnie May had just been imitating her.

"Hello Lassy, I'm afraid I'm too busy." Walter laughed before turning to Anne. "Annie, why don't you come clean up the room a bit? You left a bit of a mess this morning."

"Yes Sir." Anne reluctantly gathered her books and went back down the hall to their own room.

She didn't remember leaving much of a mess, but she could see now that she must have in her haste to find Diana that morning. The dress she'd worn last night was thrown over the bedspread.

Anne dropped her books on the desk and picked it up, preparing to hang it and put it in the armoire, when she noticed something. Pausing, Anne touched one of the cuffs on the sleeve.

She smiled to herself as she saw coal smudges coating the edge of the sleeve. The feeling flooded back, the thrill of Gilbert grabbing her hand.

"Annie, you have got to be more careful." Bertha walked in carrying stacks of laundered clothes and set them on the other bed. "You know we can't wash anything until we dock again, and I have no idea what you got all over yourself when you were running around with Diana."

"It's just dirt, Mother." Anne held the dress out and saw another coal smudge on the shoulder.

"How you managed to get that dirty, I'll never understand. And I thought your tree-climbing phase was bad." She sighed, then couldn't help but smile, likely at recalling that more rambunctious Anne of youth.

"I promise to be more careful." Anne shook the dress out as best as she could and put it in the closet. She shoved her school books into the shelf under the bedside table to clear off the surface, grabbed her bag, and prepared to go out onto the deck, when Bertha stopped her with a gentle hand on the shoulder.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" She asked.

"Am I?" Anne grinned, feigning innocence. Truthfully, she couldn't think of what it could be, but she wouldn't put it past her mother to think of more chores.

Bertha just smiled and pointed towards the desk. Anne bit back a groan as she slinked over. She'd left a few books and papers on the desktop and opened the top drawer to sweep it all in when she saw a small box in the top drawer.

"What's this?" She asked, taking it out.

"Open it." Bertha urged.

Confused, Anne opened the box and gasped. A silver locket on a chain was inside. It was the exact same one she and her parents had seen in a shop yesterday when exploring the city.

"You didn't…" Anne was stunned.

"We thought you should have something nice to remember our trip by." Bertha hugged Anne around the shoulders.

"It's beautiful." Anne had never really owned jewelry before, partially due to being a young girl of tree-climbing wants rather than anything else, but now that she was old enough to appreciate it, she really did. "I love it!"

"And you can spend all the time you want thinking of what to put inside."

Anne put the locket on, dropping it so that it laid over her chest. She certainly didn't mind that it was empty, it didn't feel empty. Properly inspired, Anne grabbed her bag with her notebook and set off once more.

Anne tried not to relish in the compliments Diana gave her on her locket. She knew material objects weren't everything, but she certainly felt they were something in that moment.

As they walked around the ship, they talked and laughed a bit about their respective schools, Diana worrying what if it would be lonely to have only a private tutor in England since she'd only be schooling for a short time before going to finishing school.

"I'm Diana Fairy, and I don't wanna go to Paris! It's boring, just like me!" Minnie May mocked, skipping along beside them.

Anne couldn't help but laugh, while Diana was quite unamused. Apparently, any guilt she had over resenting her sister was gone, and it was back to resentment in some form.

"Minnie May, stop it! Don't encourage her, Anne!" Diana sighed.

"I'm sorry." Anne clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle the laughter.

Anne didn't have a siblings, so it seemed her tolerance and patience for young children had not shortened the way Diana's had. It wasn't until Minnie May went back to mimicking Anne that Anne no longer found it funny.

"I'm Anne and I'm in love with a boy!" She mocked. Anne went red, and as per her loyal friendship, Diana did not laugh. She just shushed her sister as they walked out onto the deck.

"Dance with me, handsome man!" Minnie May shouted towards a group of passing sailors, who roared with laughter.

"Enough!" Diana grabbed Minnie May by the arm. "What would Mother say if she heard you!? You are acting like a brat!"

"Minnie May," Anne reached into her bag for her father's telescope. "Why don't we try and spot some mermaids?"

Holding back tears and content with the idea, Minnie May nodded. Anne led her to the railing overlooking a lower deck, with the sea out further. Anne gave Minnie May a boost onto a nearby crate and handed her the telescope.

"Tell us what you see." Anne prompted, using the girl's distraction to do some watching of her own.

She hadn't seen Gilbert since they parted ways last night, but since the Osprey had left from Ammont over night, and they were out on open sea, Anne didn't expect he would. He would be back to work and she had to keep her eyes peeled to even look for him.

"I see something!" Minnie May announced. "Mermaids!"

"Really?" Anne turned from scanning the crowds of people and put her feet up on the railing.

Diana did the same on her other side and they scanned the waters. Diana pointed and Anne finally something rising from the grey water. She took the telescope to further inspect.

"Hm…" Anne could see land as a black line of shore way in the distance, and bit closer, finally saw the tail of a manatee disappear under the waves. "Yes! Those are definitely mermaids!"

She laughed, it suddenly pausing in her throat. She could feel someone watching her, hear their chuckle. Anne's heart pounded as she got down from the rail and turned around.

Gilbert and a few other workers were out on the deck. Most of them wiped their faces with clothes, coal streaking down with the sweat. Gilbert looked that way too, and Anne wondered if he'd been shoveling since they departed. She couldn't hold back a smile and the thought that despite it all, he still looked very handsome.

"Excuse us." A man with dark skin put his hands on the edge of the crate. Diana quickly picked Minnie May up off the crate and Gilbert came back around to grab the other end.

The other workers were approaching with a cart on wheels and Anne did not dare trying to speak to Gilbert now as they lifted the crate onto the cart. She wanted to, but she was not sure if it would get him in trouble.

"Let's go! We gotta get back to the furnaces!" One of the men barked at the dark-skinned man as they wheeled the crate away.

Anne watched forlornly as Gilbert helped the man carry the cargo away further towards the stairs to the steerage. It was only then that he turned back towards Anne.

Gilbert ran back and took Anne's hand in his. She only had a moment to appreciate the warmth, her eyes rising up to meet his for only a second long enough to feel the blush on her face as their eyes locked, and then he was gone.

The warmth lingered as Anne realized he'd left a note in her hand. Turning away from Diana, Anne opened the tiny piece of paper.

_Ann –I'd like to talk again, if you want. Meet me on the south side of the lower deck during dinner tomorrow night. _

Anne smiled, despite the fact that he had forgotten the E on the end of her name. She carefully folded the note back and put it in her bag. When she turned back towards Diana, her friend gave her a curious look, silently questioning. Anne nodded her head and Diana smiled.

She spent the rest of the day on a high, and the next day just waiting for evening to come. Her mother insisted they do a few lessons, and in those moments, she was eternally grateful she'd perfected the art of pretending to pay attention while daydreaming.

Before dinner, Anne actually brushed her hair in the mirror, curling the ringlets around her fingers until she caught her mother looking at her in confusion. At dinner, Anne ate as fast as she could.

"Slow down, Annie! The crap isn't going anywhere, it's already dead!" Walter laughed.

"I just want to hurry up and get to my…work." Anne said. "I'm very inspired and eating is terribly inconvenient to my muse."

"I know the feeling." He chuckled.

"Done!" Anne pushed back from the table. "I'll see you guys later!"

"Annie!" Bertha sighed. "Just…be careful, alright?"

"Yep!" Anne grabbed her bag and went towards the door, stopping by a cart to load up on cookies before leaving.

The first class deck was mostly empty, as everyone was at dinner and likely going to stick around afterwards for cocktails and the pianist. The few people who were out on the deck quickly smoked their cigarettes and went back inside, as the setting sun was leaving them in chill.

Anne's heart pounded as she walked the length to the south side. The stars showing against the orange and purple sunset was a beautiful image, but Anne didn't have time to stop and admire it.

She rounded the corner, feeling her heart skip a beat at the sight of a wall of wooden crates. She peered around the edge and smiled. Gilbert was sitting on the floor with a bucket and scrub brush.

"Hiding?"

"Sort of, but I figured I could be working if anyone came looking for me." He said.

Anne walked around the corner and sat down on the floor across from him. It seemed he'd started on the work of scrubbing the floor but had stopped, only intending to work again if any of the other workers came looking for him.

"I brought you some cookies." Anne unwrapped the napkin. "I never even thought to ask, though, do you like vanilla? I keep getting vanilla because they have a lot of vanilla."

"Vanilla's fine." Gilbert took one of the cookies.

"Yes, but do you like—"

"I like vanilla." Gilbert assured her, a smile pulling at his lips as he bit into the cookie. Anne tried not to stare, and instead leaned back to watch the stars.

It was strange how she'd been so nervous leading up to now, but once she was in his presence again, a serene calm was over her. A strange sense of comfortable, as if she'd known him for ages and not just for a few days, as if this wasn't their second time spending time together ever.

"So, um, you wanted to talk to me?" Anne said, the nervousness coming back just slightly.

"Yes." He brushed crumbs off his hands onto the knees of his pants. "How's the story coming? Did you put in all that stuff we talked about?"

"Oh." Anne silently thanked herself for not getting her hopes up too much. This didn't have to be Ian all over again. "Yes, thanks again for your help."

"Cordelia got to learn a lot about Gilbert, then?" He kept his eyes down as if focusing as he took another bite. "But…did Gilbert get to know anything about Cordelia? I mean, what does _she _like?"

He looked up, meeting her eyes, and Anne felt as if her lungs stalled in her chest. She had to reminded herself to breath. It sounded so inconspicuous, but Anne knew in that moment that Gilbert was asking about her.

"She… likes reading and writing." Anne started, before forgetting to be nervous. "And adventure, and horses and she misses Constantine so much ever since she passed, because she was the greatest horse a girl could ever have." Anne said, glancing up again to see that Gilbert was smiling at her. "And school."

"She –You actually like school?" Gilbert asked.

"Yes, I know it's quite the feat considering both my parents teach, that I've managed to still enjoy school, but I do. I'm guessing you don't? Most boys detest school, in my experience at least." Anne knew Gilbert wasn't like most boys, she was almost certain of what he'd say.

"Nah, I loved school." Gilbert said, and Anne inwardly grinned. "I was actually top in my class."

"Really? Me too!" Anne smirked. "Even in spelling?"

"Yeah."

"Really…because you spelled my name wrong. You didn't put the E at the end." Anne took a cookie for herself.

"Oh. I'm sorry, I'll remember the E next time."

He flashed her another smile and Anne felt the nervousness back in full swing, and she'd longed to take it in stride. What did that look mean? She was suddenly so painfully aware of how she felt, and how handsome he was. She just didn't want to make a mistake.

Suddenly, it occurred to Anne how familiar this situation was. Hadn't Cordelia just gone through the same thing in the story? She'd begun to spend so much time with Gilbert, but she was uncertain how to felt about her.

The stakes were even higher for Lady Cordelia, considering that she was in an arranged engagement with Wisteria, yet she threw caution to the wind, knowing she'd die if she didn't at least take a chance. Anne had written all of that, surely she could take the same advice?

"Spell… sentiment." Anne told him, looking down at the bundle of cookies beside her.

"Why? Are you testing me?" He seemed amused.

"Yes." She felt herself blush, but her gaze didn't waver.

"S-E-N-T-I-M-E-N-T." He flashed her another smile. "Now you."

"Me?"

"Spell anticipate." Gilbert said. Anne actually had to think for a moment.

"A-N-T-I-C-I-P-A-T-E." She managed, she then went for a harder word. "Spell exuberate."

"E-X—" Gilbert paused. "U—" Anne looked up when she saw his hand moving.

"Hey, you're cheating!" She looked around to see he'd been writing, scrawling a finger through the dripped water from the bucket on the floor.

"I am not! How is that cheating, if I write it out? I've still got to spell it out myself." He was still looking at her with amusement, even more so now. "Why don't you spell it, then?"

"Well, why don't you spell….fascinating?" She countered, cheeks reddening.

"Why don't you spell captivating?" He said, leaning closer. Anne subconsciously leaned too, her heart pounding.

"Why don't you spell enamored!?" She hadn't realized how close they were until she could see the mutual blush on his face from this distance, or how loud she had been, until her voice echoed out on the deck and they heard footsteps approaching.

Gilbert jumped up and Anne followed suit, preparing to play the innocent passenger girl who'd simply stopped a worker to ask a question. She put the cookies back in her bag and stood with hands clasped as Gilbert peered around the corner.

"Oh, it's just you." He seemed to sigh in relief.

"There you are, Blythe. Thought you fell into the ocean or something." The stranger came around the corner. Anne turned to see the same dark-skinned man she usually saw with Gilbert.

"Just finished." Gilbert shrugged. "Work's done for the day, and so I thought I'd take a break for a while before going back downstairs."

"I can see what kept you." He looked at Anne and Anne was suddenly bursting with excitement and curiosity.

"Hello! I'm Anne." She stuck her hand out. The man looked down at her hand in surprise and even Gilbert lifted his brows.

Anne knew trying to shake hands with Mrs. Barry had been a mistake, but she wasn't going to change all of her principles on that. Yet, the worry that she'd made another mistake was just about to surface when the man smiled and took her hand.

"Nice to finally meet you Anne. Gilbert has told me so much about you." He said. Anne felt her heart pound again. "I'm Bash."

"Bash," Anne shook his hand. "Is that short for Seb—"

"Don't ask." Gilbert cut in before looking over at him. "And he was just leaving, right?"

"Oh, but you have to take some of these." Anne took out the cookies and tried to give him the rest. "In exchange for me asking you about all of the fascinating places you've been, including where you're from. You see, I've read fascinating stories about countries in Africa, but I've never actually met a colored person before. I mean, I've seen some in Halifax, but I've never gotten to ask them any of my burning questions about—"

Anne caught sight of Gilbert over Bash's shoulder and she quickly shut up at the sight of his uncomfortable grimace.

"I'm sorry, I've been told I talk a lot and I didn't realize how personal—"

"Trinidad." Bash said, unwrapping a cookie and taking a bite. "I'm from Trinidad."

"Trinidad. Wow, that sounds so exotic." Anne sighed wistfully.

"It's alright." He laughed. "You're alright, Anne. Didn't know what to think at first, but you're a pretty funny girl."

"I hear that a lot, too." She smiled seeing Gilbert looking relieved.

"Guess I'll take my leave. See if you can't snag something else next time, vanilla gets old." Bash ate another cookie.

"Will do." Anne nodded. Bash laughed and walked back around the corner. Anne turned back to Gilbert. "I like him."

"Me too." Gilbert smiled, finally abandoning the façade of working and stepping out from between the crates. Anne followed, figuring that the fall of night meant he was off duty now anyways.

Gilbert leaned against the railing and overlooked the sea. Anne did the same beside him, leaving reluctant space between them. She looked out onto the water, with land far behind them, they seemed as if they were all alone in the world.

She pretended she didn't hear the chatter of people leaving the lounge. Anne hoped that the little barrier of crates would keep people from coming this way. They were alone in the world, both of them looking out onto the dark blue water and watching the way the moon beam shimmered on the surface.

"Bash was actually the first person to be really nice to me here. Not that I blame the other guys, I mean, who wants to hang out with a kid." Gilbert crossed his arms and leaned his elbows on the rail.

"As an only child frequently in the company of adults, I can say that unfortunately, not many of them." Anne sighed, placing her hands on the railing. "Though I used to sometimes wish I had siblings. I used to _pretend _I had siblings."

"You don't want them now?" He looked over.

"…No." She said after thinking for a moment. Though it would be nice for a while to have someone else for her parents to fret over, Anne would miss their undivided attention. "If I could have anything…anything in the world, I suppose my greatest wish would for to be published. Not even to be published –just to know that my story resonated with someone out there. Even if it was just one person." She looked at him. "What about you? If you could have one wish?"

"I'd wish…" He smiled, looking out towards the water. "For my farm's land to come back. I'd take Bash back to Avonlea with me –he's sick of ships, I know it, and we'd work the land so my dad wouldn't have to. I'm sure he'd love to be a farmer, and we could plant apples again. Hell, maybe another fruit too."

"Like mangoes. They're exotic." Anne nodded. "I've never had one, but they're in books."

"Mangoes too, then." He chuckled, turning from the rail to look at her now.

Anne looked back at him, her nerves simultaneously fading to serene calm as her heart hammered in her chest. The wind blew harder, lifting her hair from her shoulders and whipping it around her face.

Anne was reminded again of Cordelia. She'd risked everything she'd known since losing her home, the comfortable life with Wisteria, all to test if Gilbert shared her feelings. Anne had written that Cordelia had intentionally brushed hands with Gilbert.

Just as the thought to do the same entered her mind, Gilbert reached out towards Anne. Her breath stalled, catching in her throat as Gilbert tucked a stray lock of hair back behind her ear. The soft brush of his fingers against her face lasted only a second, but it seemed to burn into her all the same.

"I—um, it's getting late." Gilbert stepped back a bit. "I should probably get back downstairs."

"Right." Anne suddenly felt the wind chill much colder, but she pressed on. "When can I see you again?"

"Same time tomorrow? I'll try and take another shift on the furnaces, so I'll be done early."

"I'll be here." She smiled and glanced towards the two stacks of crates. "Nice fort."

"They're empty." He shrugged and laughed. "So now one will need them for now."

"A safe haven."

Anne watched, heavy hearted as he walked towards the corner. And then he stopped, and her heart stopped. Gilbert turned back, and just as before, slipped his hands in hers. In a moment both too much of a whirlwind to process, and too precious not to save every instance to memory, Gilbert brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it.

Anne physically felt the breath pull from her lungs. All of the heat in her body suddenly rushed to her face and it took all of the energy she had to keep her jaw from dropping in shock. He pulled back and even in the darkness, Anne could see him blushing.

"Until next time." He turned, smiling back at her over his shoulder.

Anne only nodded, unable to form words, unable to stop smiling as she watched him go. She cradled one hand in the other, attempting to trap his heat against her skin and hold that to her heart. She knew he'd seen that in her story, and now that was the fact that either he'd been imitating Gilbert the character or she just happened to predict he'd be the type to do such a thing.

She wasn't sure which one she liked better.

It wasn't until the wind blew over the corner of his page for the third time that Walter finally looked up from his writing. He'd been inspired by the sunset after dinner to sit on the deck outside the lounge to jot down a few paragraphs, but that suddenly turned into a few chapters.

Muse was a strange thing, kept him from noticing the time. And thanks to Anne, he had the perfect name for the wizard's daughter. He'd just gotten to the part where Diana was meeting the mysterious merchant, but he'd have to stop for now.

Fumbling for the pocket watch in the front of his jacket, he squinted in the darkness and made out how late it was. Goodness, why hadn't Bertha or Anne come looking for him? As he stood up and stretched, he began to wonder why he didn't see Anne.

Hadn't she said she was leaving dinner to work on her story? And that was over an hour ago, maybe two. She wasn't the type to hole up in the room to work, he thought to himself as he walked down the deck. Perhaps Bertha caught her and insisted she do homework instead. He couldn't help but agree that should come first.

Lost in thought once more, Walter slowed to a stop around the back deck. A stack of crates obscured most of the path. If they were storing things up here, he'd just take the other way around, he thought to himself. He just turned when he saw Anne out of the corner of his eye.

Peering around the crate, Walter did all he could not to gasp. He would have thought it a trick of his bad eyes had he not been wearing his glasses. Despite it night, he could see clear as day as some strange boy kissed his daughter's hand.

Backing away as fast as he could, he slammed back into a wall. He then turned and ran, nearly stumbling on the stairs to the cabin. He finally found a quiet corner in the hall way to breath. And to panic.

Many emotions crossed through his mind. Fear, confusion, and mostly anger as he recalled a similar incident from years ago. Heartbroken Anne was quite the force, and to have to see her in such a state again so soon was too much.

Finally getting a hold of himself, Walter let the sound of footsteps pass and wait for the sound of closing doors as the last few passengers went to bed before he went to their cabin and opened the door with force.

Anne was laying in her bed, a schoolbook open on her lap. Bertha was at the dresser mirror, taking her hair down from pins, half her crimson curls hanging on her shoulders. They both jumped when he entered.

"Walter? What is it?" Bertha asked.

Walter just looked at his daughter. If she'd made it back to the cabin before he did, he must have been mildly panicking for longer than he thought, for there was no way he just imagined what he saw. There was no way the pink in her face was just from the cold.

"Bertha, may I see you out in the hall for a moment?" He asked tensely, a hand still on the doorknob.

"Father, are you alright?" Anne closed her book and looked at him in concern. "You're doing that thing where you talk while clenching your teeth."

"I'm fine. Just a matter of… business things." He looked at his wife again. "Bertha. The hall."

"Alright, then." Bertha grabbed her dressing down and put it on as she stepped into the hall and closed the door. "What is it?"

"Anne—" Walter tried to get it all out, feeling sweat bead on his forehead. "She was with—and he—and her—"

"Dear, I cannot understand you. What now?" She put her hands on his shoulders and immediately felt calmed. He took a breath.

"I saw Anne with someone. A stranger… boy." He said.

"Oh, you mean that boy from down in the engines." Bertha nodded.

"You—knew about this?!" He hissed.

"Oh, open your eyes, Dear. She's quite captivated with him."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Don't you remember what happened with Alastair's son? I won't let you fly off the handle like that again."

"What happened then is precisely why I want to protect her! Who is this boy!?" He demanded.

"I don't know, but he doesn't seem out to harm her. I honestly wonder… he can't be any older than her, how on earth did he find himself working in a place like this?" She sighed. "That poor boy."

"If he's working, then he should work! And not—with my daughter!" He growled.

"Walter, calm down!" Bertha put her hands on his shoulders again.

"She's too young!"

"She's sixteen! She's not a child! In case you've forgotten, we were sixteen when we met, and not much older when we left everything to run off to Canada."

She stroked her hands over his shoulders, smiling at him, as if trying to pull him back from rage with the memory of their youth. Instead, it just made the reality crash down upon him.

"My story is for her." He sighed, taking the notebook from his bag. "They all wore. Everything I ever wrote was for her, and they're children's stories. She's not a child anymore."

"That's alright, Dear. She still loves your stories, you know she does. And if you weren't such a worrier about secrecy, she'd let you read that draft to her right now." Bertha said.

"…Do you think?" He hadn't read to Anne in ages. But he also hadn't had anything new to read in ages.

"I'm sure of it. You're here now for the easy parts." She hugged him tight. "I'm afraid I'll be here for the sad parts, when it all ends and we go back home, and that boy stays here. That's going to be a heartbreak that makes before look like nothing. But that's what mothers are for."

Walter did not want to think about that, Anne having her heart broken again. But also did not dare entertain any thought of the opposite, of Annie falling in love and leaving him forever.

Instead, he just took another breath and followed his wife back inside. Bertha went back to the mirror as if nothing had happened and Walter took off his jacket.

"Is everything… alright?" Anne asked.

"Yes." Walter took the chair from the desk and put it by her bed in the tiny space allotted. "I was just wondering if you wouldn't mind doing me a favor, Annie. You see, I wrote all of this chapter, but I have no idea how it sounds out loud. May I read it to you?"

"Oh Father, yes please." Anne laid back in the bed and pulled the blanket up to her chin. Walter chuckled and opened his notebook.

"_Chapter Six—Diana and Argyle rode down the long dirt road through the forest, until it opened up into a clearing of wild flowers—"_

"What kind of flowers?" Anne interjected.

"Well, I didn't specify… but if you have a suggestion…?"

"Dandelions." Anne said.

"Weeds are flowers too." Bertha agreed with a nod, not looking over from the mirror.

"Alright then," Walter took a pen from his lapel to make a note. "Dandelions it is."

Gilbert was in even more of a daze than he'd been the night after they danced. He tried to burn every second he'd spent with Anne into his memory. The way she smiled at him. The way she seemed to respond to his touch. He'd been taking such a risk to reach out to her, and yet, it was worth it.

The slight guilt of slacking on work was squashed as he reminded himself he'd be going back to the furnaces. It was harder and technically dangerous, but worth it in the sense that stokers only had four hour shifts at a time due to the heat, meaning he'd be done with time to spare to see Anne.

"Bash?" Gilbert whispered, not wanting to wake anyone else.

"Hm?" Bash groaned. "What? You gonna ask me something about girls, well I don't know a thing, so shut it."

"…Just wondering how long until we dock again." Gilbert mumbled, blushing in the dark.

Truthfully, he had been wanting to ask how to kiss a girl, before deciding that was just too much to ask him.

It was nerves that had stopped him from really kissing Anne. He had no idea what he was doing, he'd never looked at another girl that way before, and the idea of kissing her so soon was nerve-wracking, yet he wanted to. Luckily, the thought of the perfect alternative.

"Kent is… two? Three days away? Can't remember now." Bash answered. "I'm sleeping now."

"Just one more thing." Gilbert rolled over to look at Bash, whose eyes were closed. "When Anne—"

"For God's sake, Blythe, quit yakking about that girl. She's nice, but you've known her for what, a week? What else can you possibly have to say about her? I get it, you love her!"

"I… " Gilbert rolled onto his back, mouth clamped shut. He listened, straining in the dark for the sound of anyone else awake that may have overheard, but there was only the steady breaths of sleep and the pounding of his own heart.

After several aching moments, his nerves faded, but the dazed feeling did not. Bash was asleep now, as was everyone else, but Gilbert had to tell someone his realization. He whispered into the darkness to no one.

"I think that I do." He said. "I think I do love her."

_**Author's Note:**_

_**Haha, I've been forgetting to put these in, so here I am. If you like this story, please review! It means a lot to me! And please follow me on tumblr frappuccinio :)**_


	5. Chapter 5

Gilbert fought the ache in his arms and legs as he shoveled the coal into the furnace. The flames lashed a satisfying height and he was just waiting for someone to see that and pull him off duty.

Sweat streaked down his face, soaking into the bandana he'd tied over the lower half of his face to shield from the smoke. His shirt sleeves were rolled to the elbow and fully unbuttoned, exposing his undershirt. Soot had somehow slipped down into his boots some time ago, and it was in the back of his mind to take them off and shake it out.

Despite all of this as the fourth hour at the furnaces weighed on him, Gilbert was in very high spirits. He'd seen Anne again last night, and though he was continuously too chicken over the last week to do anything more than kiss her on the hand, she seemed to enthusiastically anticipate it now, even offering her hand to him last time.

And last night, she'd left him with something else, something he'd been thinking over to distract from the new calluses now forming over his old calluses.

"Wisteria raises Gilbert's sword," Anne had been explaining the climactic battle, complete with reenactments. "Because, even if the magic doesn't work in his hand, the blade's still sharp. But Cordelia can't let this happen. Wisteria had already tried to kill Gilbert by starting a war just for a way to send him to the front lines over and over again, but Gilbert was too smart not to lead their side to victory. But he can't exactly get out of a sword coming right at his heart, so—"

"Does he… _die_?" Gilbert had actually asked with disbelief. He was quite invested in this fictional version of himself—if only because he liked to believe that was how Anne saw him— but he'd never before thought to consider she'd kill him in the end.

"Of course not! Wisteria aims to kill, but Cordelia is faster. She throws herself between them and—" Anne didn't have to say it, her silent reenactment of raised sword and plunging blade was enough for Gilbert to wince as he got the picture.

"So… she dies?" He asked softly.

"Well, no." Anne sighed. "She takes the sword to the chest, that part is important, but so is the idea that _she _ends up wielding the sword's magic. She reclaims it, you see, because the sword responds to someone with a pure heart. That's how Gilbert wielded it so expertly in the first place… I just don't know how to get there, from Cordelia having the sword run through her to her getting a hold of it unscathed. I fear the great tragedy of writer's block has afflicted me once more."

She'd asked Gilbert to help her think about it, much to his surprise. Gilbert had been taken aback, as he didn't know a thing about writing stories, but it seemed so important to Anne that he said he'd give it a shot.

Love was strange. He'd been debating that in his mind too, whether he was truly in love or just in great infatuation with Anne. He had no idea what love really left like, but the answer had seemed to come clearer to him last night when they were talking, sitting across from one another in their hidden spot, close enough that their knees touched.

"Are you sure she has to jump in front of the sword?" Gilbert asked.

"Of course I'm sure! I would never let you—I mean, she'd never let him—oh, you know what I mean!"

Gilbert smiled now beneath his bandana at the memory. He was almost finished with work. He _wanted _to be finished, but oddly in a way, he didn't. He didn't want to see Anne until he had something.

But the fact that he was uncreative showed more than ever now. After staring into the flames for hours, the only thing he could think of was if somehow Wisteria missed with his attack, but even in his state of exhaustion and lack of creativity, he could picture how disappointed Anne would be if that's all he was able to think of.

"How's she supposed to survive that? Taking a hit from a sword?" Gilbert muttered to himself, lifting another shovelful of coal with great force.

"I don't know what you're on about," Bash said from beside him. He'd been equally in thought during the shift, though Gilbert had never felt to ask what he was always thinking about. "And if it's got to do with Anne, I don't think I'll ever understand."

"Anne wants help with some impossible story idea, but it's not like Cordelia's got—" Gilbert paused, shovel in midair as the answer came to him. His eyes widened and he coughed as he yanked his bandana off his face to hang down around his neck. "A shield!"

Bash just shook his head in a mix of amusement and annoyance. Gilbert ignored him, feeling the idea fully form in his mind. If there was a magic sword, then there had to be a shield too, right? He really hoped Anne liked his idea. Now he couldn't wait to get the hell out of here.

"Love's a funny color on you." Bash chuckled.

"I think it fits fine." Gilbert said, looking to his other side to see the rest of the men shoveling with their heads down. "It's everyone else who needs something like it. Whatever happened to the morale?"

"Ask Harrison. He keeps it in his wallet." Bash laughed again.

He knew what could raise spirits. Maybe not to the level of his own, but more than higher than the hell pit they were in now. Gilbert began to work faster, and this time, with no regards to the searing heat in his lungs, began to sing.

"When I was a little boy my mother always told me that if I did not kiss the girls, my lips would all grow moldy!"

"Shut up, Blythe." Bash hissed from beside him, but Gilbert could tell he was trying not to laugh.

"Once in my life I married a wife but she was fat and lazy! Then I met a _Scottish_ girl! She damn near drove me crazy!"

This time, Bash did laugh, even if it was accompanied by a chorus of the other workers telling him to shut the hell up, among other things.

"Hey! Farm boy!" A large man who never smiled yelled down. "You and Trinidad better shut it, or do you want another job? Harrison's looking for someone on latrines."

"No, no, it's fine!" Bash called down the line. "He just a little crazy from the heat!"

Gilbert stayed silent, face burning like the furnace, though he hid a smile. His arms ached to stop, but no one had checked on them yet to relieve duty. Gilbert watched out of the corner of his eye for the large man to finally turn back to the furnace.

"I mean it, Blythe. Don't push your luck with them." Bash whispered. "James especially. People like him want nothing more than to rat out people like us."

"Sorry… there's just a song in my soul sometimes." Gilbert scrapped his shovel hard to cover the sound of their voices. "I guess I just forget not everyone's so warm."

"Flattery, eh? Is that how you get to Anne?" Bash cracked a smile.

"She'd see right through it." Gilbert said. At the mention of her, he was reminded of his urgency. "Where the hell is Harrison, anyways? Isn't there some poor souls dying to switch out with us?"

"Afraid you'll sweat away into nothing?"

"That's it!" James called down, dropping his shovel into the coal on the floor and starting down towards them. "I'm sick of you, Trinidad!"

"Hey, calm down!" Gilbert stood up straight. "We're all hot, and we're all tired…"

"I'm sick of both of you always slacking." He came closer, eyeing Gilbert. "Why don't I tell Harrison to chuck you and your little friend Trini off and you can swim back to land? Fucking—"

Gilbert snapped as James then called Bash a name that made his very skin crawl and all the rage of the room's fire burn through his body. He didn't realize he moved until Bash grabbed him hard around the arm to hold him back.

"What are you gonna do, farm boy!?" James shoved Gilbert hard in the shoulder.

Gilbert stumbled back and gasped. Everything suddenly seemed in slow motion. Bash's eyes widened and even James' scowled slackened into shock as Gilbert's arm knocked into the metal siding.

Pain seared through him as the hot metal burned through the cuffed sleeve around his elbow and into skin. Gilbert was with jaw-clenched as he wrenched forward and fell onto his knees. The loud siren ripped and railed through the engine room. Gilbert then realized it was his own screaming, but he couldn't stop.

"Hey! Someone tell Harrison we gotta burn in here!" Bash yelled, dropping down beside him.

There was the slamming of the metal door as someone went for the boss. Gilbert stayed hunched over, left hand clamped to his right arm as the screaming died down, his smoke-stained lungs protesting.

"Hey, hey, you're alright Blythe, you're alright." Bash assured him.

Gilbert couldn't speak, couldn't see much now behind the tears trying to bloom in his eyes, but Gilbert did not cry. It was painful hours or seconds that Gilbert breathed heavy, until he finally heard Harrison.

"What happened!?"

"He fell." James said quickly.

"God dammit. Trinidad, get him to the infirmary, and don't touch anything up deck!"

"Yes Sir." Bash pulled Gilbert up by the good arm and dragged him outside. "Come on, Blythe."

It was a blur of pain as Bash dragged him up and down halls. The nerves in his arm seemed to insist they hold onto the feeling of the burn. Gilbert only let the insistent tears fall when he and Bash were alone.

"What I tell you?" Bash seemed to whisper mostly to himself, Gilbert could barely hear him over the pounding of his own heart in his ears. "No one else as warm as me."

Gilbert's face was a mess of the mud that was a mix of dried tears and coal as he tried to sit rigid on a cot in the infirmary. Though he was separated from the next cot over by a sheet curtain, he could tell the other patient was a child by the sound of their sniffles.

Despite trying to be unfeeling, he still winced as the nurse treated his arm.

"It's not bad as all that." She assured him. "I've seen worse, and I'll see worse before the end of the week."

Gilbert now dared turned his head to look down at the back of his arm above the elbow. Red blistered skin stared back and some part of seeing it made it worse. Gilbert quickly looked away as she rubbed on a balm of mint and thyme. He grit his teeth. She then covered it in gauze.

"So it's not bad?" He breathed out steady as she wrapped a bandage around his arm.

"No, no. Just keep it clean and you'll be okay." She assured him.

"And I can go back to work?" His heart pounded.

"You want to?"

"That's why I'm here."

"Yes, in a day or two. Rest up, young man."

She patted his shoulder and then stepped away from the cot to pull back the curtain and see about the sick child. Gilbert jumped up as soon as she saw gone and stepped over to the wash basin.

"Can't believe you're still here." He mumbled as he poured pitcher water into his hands and began scrubbing at his face.

"Ain't gonna just leave you crying, you know." Bash shrugged a shoulder. "Thought we agreed I'm the one with heart down there?"

"I was crying?" Gilbert had prayed the tears he could taste had just been involuntary water works to fight the smoke.

"Eh, we've all been there. Never seen someone cry _so _much, but still…" Bash's tone was teasing, but something in Gilbert was still hard.

"Never seen my dad, then." He mumbled, leaning up and grabbing a towel.

"Blythe, why'd you have to—" Bash started, but Gilbert cut him off.

"Because he called you—" Gilbert breathed slowly, fighting the pain flaring up. "You know."

"You can't let that get to you. I don't anymore, I can't afford it."

"What's his problem?"Gilbert went back to the cot sat down. "And not just his—everyone's? It's like a morgue down there!"

"Look around, Blythe! Not everyone's gotta someone they see every night that makes it worth it. You're lucky!" Bash then lowered his voice, sighing. "With everything. People on here having nothing but this. Nothing! They ain't got a girl or a farm—"

"My farm is gone!" Gilbert pressed his face into the damp towel. He could hear the nurse moving around and even Bash stop breathing for half a second. Gilbert then coughed up soot in his lungs before looking up. "Burned to the ground. I don't have anything, okay? Does that make me okay now?"

Not wanting to be around anyone's prying eyes, Gilbert got up and walked out. Bash followed behind him, not even letting the door close.

"Blythe, I –I didn't know—"

"Right, because I didn't tell you. I didn't want that look. That pity. And I don't want to end up like everyone else. This can't be my life. It just can't be." He sighed, pacing the empty hall. "And I know you hate it too. Please tell me you want more."

"I'd love it. But what else is there?"

Gilbert was silent for a moment. He tried to calculate how many more week's pay would make a dent in what his parent's needed, but the pain in his arm was persistent. He thought of picking the coal shovel up again and almost started to cry again.

"I don't know, but I'd tell you if I did." He sighed. "Come on, let's see if Anne will steal us some food or something. No one can tell us we're not done with our shift now."

"I heard William Barry say Queenstown had a theater." Bertha said over tea after lunch. "The latest gossip was the upcoming port in Queenstown. "Doesn't that sound fun, Annie?"

"They're going to do a show in English, aren't they?" Anne thought of their last family-foray into theater several years ago. Anne did not know any German, leaving her to just imagine what everyone was saying. It was great fun for a while, but lost its luster halfway to intermission.

"Well, either way, it'll be fun." Walter laughed.

Anne looked across the lounge to Diana's family. Diana was sitting back rigid straight as she sipped tea. Minnie May kept slouching and whining, much to Mrs. Barry's annoyance. Anne noticed Mrs. Barry held her cup the fancy way, while Bertha did not. Diana caught Anne's eye and waved before pointing.

Anne followed her gaze towards the window and stood up. Leaving her parents talking theater over tea, Anne looked out the window. Leaning against the railing of the deck down below were Gilbert and Bash. Anne's heart leaped.

"I'm done. I'll see you later." She told her parents as she stopped by back by their table to grab her bag and a few bundles of treats.

She knew she was pushing it, in terms of subtly, but liked to imagine that the look her parents then flashed one another was all in her imagination as she stepped outside onto the deck.

"Hi!" Anne ran over. "I thought you were working—Oh no, what happened?" Gilbert was sporting a bandage around his upper arm, a contrasting stark white against his stained shirt.

"Nothing. We burn ourselves down there all the time, don't worry." He assured her.

"Hey Anne, can I trouble you for something fresh?" Bash flashed her a smile.

"My pleasure, go nuts." Anne smiled and gave him one of the napkins of treats.

Bash nodded gratefully and took the cookies as he walked down the deck. Anne and Gilbert fell into step beside one another as they walked down the opposite way. There were plenty of people out on the deck now, and Anne was pleased that Gilbert wasn't so much worried about looking busy as he usually was.

"Are you sure your arm is okay?" Anne asked, eyeing the bandage once more. She dared reach out to touch his arm lightly, blushing a bit at the feel of muscle underneath.

"It's fine." He said. "I'll just have to take it easy tomorrow when we dock."

"There it is." Anne reached for her father's telescope and looked out. She could just make out the black line of shore, a contrast against the sky that was bright blue for once. "Ireland. Isn't it the beautiful most tragically heart-breaking place you've ever seen?"

"What do you mean?" Gilbert looked like he wanted to laugh.

"I mean that, after we leave Queenstown, then we're going to dock in England! And Diana is going to leave…" Anne sighed. "That might as well be the end of vacation for me."

"Well, the ship's still going to have to turn around and come all the way back to Canada…"

"But without Diana!?" Anne sighed and leaned over her folded arms on the railing. "Since we'll be docked in Queenstown for two days, I was wondering if perhaps Diana can come with us for a while, since it'll be our last time together?"

"You're implying you and I already have definite plans." He grinned.

"Oh, don't be annoying." She rolled her eyes, looking at him through the telescope. "Isn't it our deal that I buy you desert at every port?"

"Oh, that reminds me! I thought of an idea, you know, for Cordelia."

"You did!?" Anne lowered the telescope. She took in how excited he seemed, that boyish smile he seemed to save just for her shined on his face and she felt herself unable to hold back her own smile. "Tell me!"

Despite wearing her heart ever so clearly on her sleeve, Anne vowed to be excited, even if the idea didn't necessarily fit with what she already had planned. After all, it would be Gilbert's first foray into storytelling, and she was going to be supportive and encouraging no matter what.

"Alright, so, Cordelia is going to take the blow for Gilbert, that much is certain, and the sword doesn't have its power in Wisteria's hand, so if Cordelia happened to have a blessed shield with the same power…"

"Then she'd be able to overpower Wisteria's attack!" Anne's eyes widened and she gasped in excitement. "That's perfect! I –I don't know why I never thought of that! It fits, because the sword forged itself from a broken hilt of an iron sword when it sensed Gilbert's heart. I could do the same thing with a shield for Cordelia."

As Anne reached for her notebook and opened to a page to jot down notes, she was aware of him watching her closely. Her heart pounded still and she got that same feeling she always got when he took her hand in his. The feeling of his lips was something she treasured, but she realized now that it'd never been the other way around.

She jotted something about the shield magically manifesting over Cordelia's heart as a symbol of her love for Gilbert and closed the book.

Anne then looked up at him. She could see his face was clean, as if he'd scrubbed up almost in anticipation for this. Her heart threatened to leap into her throat and she blushed as she quickly leaned over and kissed Gilbert's cheek.

She pulled back, smiling at the deep blush and surprised look on his face, and knowing she looked about the same. She couldn't help but laugh at how adorable he was and then Gilbert laughed too.

"I should go finish studying." Anne said reluctantly, sighing at the sight of people pouring out of the lounges.

"Y-Yeah, I should rest so I can work tomorrow." He said, rubbing at the back of his neck.

"Are you sure you should work?" Anne asked.

"It's why I'm here." He shrugged, managing another smile.

Anne was still a bit dazed, her mind a swirl of story idea and the feel of kissing Gilbert' face. She found her parents leaving the lounge and they asked her a question she wasn't quite listening to. She really hoped they didn't notice.

"Hello, foreign soil!" Anne called out with a laugh as she jumped off of ramp and onto the Queenstown dock.

"Anne!" Bertha was among the crowds pooling off the ship. Workers carried the luggage of those leaving for good and Anne found herself scanning for Gilbert as she looked back. "Do not go far! Stay with Diana!"

"Okay!" She stepped closer to Diana, pressing their shoulders together.

"I'm tired. I don't _feel _good." Minnie May tugged Diana's hand.

"Why don't you go with Mother? She might buy you something if you're good." Diana gently pried her hand off her sister's and Anne was surprised Minnie May obeyed, jogging back over to Diana's parents on the deck where Mr. Barry seemed to be talking important business with another man.

"Come. Let us make our mark on this grand country." Anne stuck out her arm and Diana laughed as she looped her arm around Anne's.

They waited on the sidewalk for the many carriages collecting passengers to go by, darting in between horses and feeling wheels stirring up dust at her ankles. Diana squealed in laughter as she followed just behind.

Anne tried to memorized everything about Ireland, and she made two main observations. One, there were pubs on this side of the city with almost laughable frequency, as if they were really trying to play up the stereotype.

The other thing was how friendly the people seemed, compared to big Canadian cities, where it felt like she was going to get squashed as no one cared enough to pay her any mind.

A little girl with a family passing by waved to Anne and Anne waved and called back, playing up her own Scottish accent to make her laugh.

"Hello, Lassy!" Anne said, making the girl laugh.

She and Diana spent the morning shopping, giggling and running from place to place, as if dying to see it all. Anne kept darting across the street with seconds to spare, and unlike Gilbert's quiet surprise, Diana squealed as if she were afraid a carriage would run her over.

"You country folks need to be braver!" Anne laughed. It wasn't until a policeman scolded them that Anne and Diana hung their heads in shame, waiting until he left to burst out laughing again.

In a shop, Anne admired deep green fabric and wondered if she could buy some and take it back home to have a dress made. She did so want something Irish, even if to mark the occasion that was both sad and happy.

"Hey, this is what my Aunt Josephine wears." Diana said, smelling a bottle of perfume from a shelf.

"Hm…" Anne took the bottle and sniffed it. "Hm… I picture a beautiful woman waiting to engage with an endless line of suitors."

"Hardly." Diana laughed.

Anne bought the bottle and dabbed some on both her and Diana's wrists, Anne even sparing extra for her neck before putting the bottle back in the paper bag. They then walked all the way back to the street by the dock to wait outside a café.

"I told him to meet us at one." Anne sighed. "I hope he isn't struggling with work because of his arm."

"It's not bad, is it?" Diana asked.

"Well… I didn't see, but it's horrible in my imagination! Only because it's more tragical and romantic that way."

"Oh, there he is!" Diana pointed and they saw Gilbert coming down the sidewalk. Anne ran to greet him and slipped her hand in his.

"Come on, I have to tell you all of the ideas this whirlwind of a day has given me." She smiled up at him as she led him inside.

Anne sat beside Gilbert for a change, as Diana sat on the other side of the table. As they were sitting so close, Anne wondered if he could tell she was wearing perfume. She found herself sliding as close as possible, watching his face for any signs. He just looked back at her as if amused.

"Um, excuse me, I'm right here." Diana said from the other side of the table.

"Right. Why don't you tell me your idea, Diana?" Anne moved her plate aside to make room for her notebook. Diana just huffed and crossed her arms, turning away. Anne and Gilbert laughed.

After sandwiches and cake that Anne insisted on paying for, they stepped outside.

"Were you working this whole time?" Anne asked Gilbert.

"Well…no, come on, I'll show you where I left Bash."

They walked, Anne's hand in Gilbert's, to the docks. Much further past the boats, they came to a skinnier pier where a fisherman sat on the end, his line in the water. Bash was beside him, baiting a line. Gilbert went right for the bucket beside him and peered inside.

"Just one so far? It's skinny." He smirked.

"You'd know about that, eh?" Bash mumbled before glancing up at him with a laugh.

Anne tried not to laugh as they watched Bash cast his line out. The other fisherman reeled in just then, Anne and Diana gasped as a live fish struggled at the end of the line, splashing up before being pulled in.

"This is both barbaric and fascinating." Anne admitted.

"Not barbaric." The fisherman laughed, his Irish accent thick. "Not if we throw 'em back."

"You're going to throw them back?" Diana asked.

"Well, no, I'm gonna eat this one. You take 'em down to Pinky's and skim 'em yourself, he'll grill them up at a quarter of the cost." He unhooked the fish and dropped it into one of the buckets.

Anne immediately felt a pang, wondering what it would have to be like to work so hard or else you couldn't eat. Fishing seemed exciting, but Anne wasn't sure she wanted to do it every day as if her dinner depended on it.

"See ya' kids." He held the pole and tackle under one arm and then reached for the handle of the bucket before walking off down the pier.

A moment later, Bash let out a laugh as he caught a fish of his own. Anne felt almost relief that Bash wouldn't go hungry tonight. Gilbert seemed pleased too and clapped him on the shoulder as he dropped the fish into the bucket.

"Well, I'm off." Bash stood up before handing his rod over to Anne. "Why don't you all give her a go while I'm gone?"

"Oh, are you sure?" Anne asked, peering into another empty bucket. "I've never fished before."

"Sure, now's your chance. You'll be an expert before you know it." He followed the path of the other fisherman down the pier.

"I don't know if it's your calling, actually." Gilbert said.

"Why not?"

"Well, it required being quiet, for one, or you'll scare the fish away…"

"Pardon?" She blinked, and Gilbert laughed.

Anne eventually did as per Gilbert's instructions, copying Bash with baiting. Diana was much too squeamish to touch live crickets, but Anne did not mind it. Gilbert had to at least watch with surprise and slight admiration as she carefully picked one up.

"Now just back and forth." Gilbert instructed.

"You've got it, Anne!" Diana encouraged.

Anne reared the pole back and threw it forward. The hook sailed through the air but landed very close to the end of the pier. Anne sighed in disappointment. Both Bash's and the fisherman's had gone out much further than that.

"Maybe she needs a different weight on the end?" Diana suggested.

"No, she's gotta change her swing. Let me show you." Gilbert said and Anne bit back a smile and blush as she felt Gilbert step up behind her and touch her elbow. Anne took her time reeling the line back to prolong that touch. "Try not swinging so high—"

She suddenly felt Gilbert step back from her. Anne looked over her shoulder. Diana, who's been leaning over the rail to watch her line, looked over. Anne looked to see what had seemed to scare Gilbert off and saw her father standing at the end of the pier.

His hands were in his pockets and he was watching them with an expression Anne couldn't read from this far away. She really hoped it wasn't anything bad.

Anne wasn't sure why she had wanted to keep Gilbert a secret for so long. Perhaps it was because she was still worried about getting him trouble, but he wasn't exactly working now. Perhaps she'd been trying to spare her father's feelings, or Gilbert's. She'd hate to subject him to her father's scrutinizing gaze.

"Hi!" Anne waved awkwardly. "I'm attempting to fish."

She fought the beads of nervous sweat forming on the back of her neck as her father walked down the pier towards them.

"Hm…" Walter came to stand beside Anne, surveying her stance. Anne watched her father's face from the corner of her eye, debating whether his smile was genuine or tense. Gilbert stood back awkwardly before Walter turned towards him. "Nah, you had the right idea Lad. She's gotta not go as high. Show her."

"…Right, uh." Gilbert looked back at her and Anne smiled at him as he slowly reached out to touch her elbow again. "Not so high."

Anne's heart pounded as she followed Gilbert's guide. He stepped back as her line sailed through the air and landed a ways away. Anne smiled proudly over her shoulder at Gilbert and her father and they both smiled back at her.

Walter then turned to Gilbert and offered his hand. "Walter Shirley, local novelist. I trust you're not with any intentions to harm Annie?"

"Father—" Anne dared take her eyes off the lure in the water long enough to shoot him a glare, followed by an apologetic look towards Gilbert. "Don't worry, he's joking. Besides, we all know I can watch out for myself."

"Am I?" Walter gave Gilbert a scrutinizing look before laughing. "Of course I am! So what do they call you, Lad? Where are you from?"

"Gilbert Blythe." Gilbert shook his hand. "From over on Prince Edward Island."

"Well, what happened here?" Walter pointed at the bandage still on Gilbert's arm, mostly hidden by the rolled up sleeve of his shirt.

"Oh, just from down in the furnaces." Gilbert said, Anne reading his slight nerves. "You know how it is…"

"Prince Edward Island, huh?" Walter smiled. "That's farming country. You're from the farm?"

Anne and Diana exchanged glanced. She then tried to shoot Gilbert another apologetic glance, forgetting to watch her fishing line entirely.

"Yes Sir, but I don't know if I actually want to be a farmer. I guess I'm… undecided with my vocation, not like Anne."

"Well, there's always time for that! Give it all some thought, the world is your clam, you know."

"It's oyster, Father." Anne sighed in slight embarrassment.

"I knew that."

Anne sat on the pier a little while later, having abandoned her fishing efforts. Diana was standing at the rail now, watching the rod that they'd slipped into a metal loop to keep it in place.

Anne's open notebook propped up against her knees as she was pretending to add more notes about today's experience, when really, she was listening to her father talk to Gilbert. She was just worried he'd say something embarrassing about her.

"As I always say, a nod's as guid as a wink tae a blind horse!" Walter laughed. Anne groaned in embarrassment, wondering if she had sounded like that when she'd been overplaying her Scottishness earlier that day. At least Gilbert pretended to laugh.

"Father, shouldn't you be getting back to Mother?" Anne asked as she stood up.

"Alright, alright, I won't spoil your fun." Walter patted Anne on the head, much to her chagrin, before turning to Gilbert and placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "Watch out for her, Lad. Make sure she doesn't fall into the water."

"Of course, Sir." Gilbert nodded. Anne watched him go back towards the road, her notebook clutched to her chest.

"That went… much better than I expected." Anne admitted. "He didn't scare you, did he?"

"No." Gilbert laughed. "He actually reminds me of you."

"Me? Pardon, I'm nowhere near as goofy as my father." Anne put her hands on her hips.

"Oh!" Diana called out.

Gilbert and Anne looked back down to the end of the pier where Diana was next to the fishing rod. The reel was spinning wildly.

"Diana, you got something!" Anne called. "Reel it in!"

"I don't know how!" Diana seemed scared to touch the rod, her hands hovering just over it.

"Don't let it get away!" Gilbert said. He and Anne ran to the end of the pier and leaned over the railing, watching the lure go further out.

Finally, Diana stood to grab the rod and start reeling. Anne and Gilbert cheered her on as she struggled, Anne forgetting all about the fishing rule of staying quiet.

"Go! Go! Go!" Anne jumped up and down on the pier, and much to her delight, Gilbert joined in.

A fish flopped from the water, dangling wildly from the end of the line. Diana yelled in both delight and disgust as she walked back on the pier, dragging the fish onto it.

Gilbert dragged the bucket over and put the fish inside, unhooking it with a slight struggle of splashing. Anne watched it with awe as it swam in the bucket.

"It's huge!" Anne laughed. "Good job, Diana."

"I cannot believe I just did that." Diana seemed stunned, splashed water soaking her dress and shoes.

"Are you gonna eat it?" Anne asked teasingly, already knowing the answer.

"I'm going to let him go." Diana sighed.

"Are you sure?" Gilbert asked.

"Yes." Diana squared her shoulders. "No one deserved to be pulled from their home and put in a shallow bucket, believe me."

Anne felt her affection for Diana grow in her heart as she and Gilbert watched her lift the bucket with a slight struggle and walk back to the end of the pier. They leaned over the railing as Diana crouched under it and tipped the bucket, the fish and water splashing back into the water.

"Godspeed, little guy." Anne sighed and Diana waved.

Later that evening, Anne returned to her family's cabin room as the wind-chill grew. Gilbert had went to carry the fishing pole and tackle back to the worker's bunk room for Bash, and Diana had tried to fix up her appearance before going back to her parents –fixing her hair ribbon and drying off her shoes, hoping they wouldn't notice the water stains.

Anne slipped into the cabin room and tugged off her own boots after making sure she wasn't tracking any mud. She then laid back on her bed, slipping her stocking feet under the blanket for warmth. She suddenly felt exhausted.

"Hello, Dear." Bertha came in wearing one of her nicest dresses and began rifling through her jewelry box on the dresser. "Did you have fun?"

"Yes." Anne bit back a yawn as she rolled over to watch her mother putting in earrings. "Where are you going?"

"Jack and Elaine invited your father and I the theater." She said.

"Oh." Anne knew Mr. and Mrs. Sutton where an elderly couple that was in one of the other first class cabins.

Anne supposed she was happy her parents had friends, especially since it meant she wouldn't have to go with them. Though she was exhausted enough that sitting still wouldn't be a problem, she had other plans with writing tonight. Cordelia still had to disarm Wisteria.

"Your father says he saw you out fishing…" Bertha began tentatively. Anne knew where this was going and she rolled over to reach for her bag on the floor, taking out the perfume she'd almost forgotten about.

"Yes." Anne rolled the square bottle in her hand, fighting the slight color in her cheeks. "Yes, he saw me with Gilbert."

"Well, I think it's nice that you're making friends."

Anne decided just to get it out in the open, and once she did, she found it hard to stop. The blush crept fully over her face and she was unable to stop smiling as she laid back onto the pillows, her red hair spilling out behind her.

"Mother, you and Father both know that Gilbert is more than just a friend… I think that Gilbert is my soul mate." Anne sighed.

"Annie…" Bertha looked over her shoulder at Anne for a moment before turning back. "Are you really sure? I know you're at that age, but that's such a strong feeling to have. "

"Sometimes a person just knows, Mother." Anne placed the perfume bottle on the bedside table, rotating it so that she could see the label. "Like with Diana. She's my kindred spirit, even if her parents don't understand that."

Just then, there was a stern hammering on the cabin door. Anne sat up in bed as Bertha checked the clock on the table.

"Is that Mr. and Mrs. Sutton?" Anne asked.

"No, we're meeting them downstairs." Bertha furrowed her brows in confusion before going to the door. Anne couldn't see who it was but could hear the unmistakable stern tones of Mrs. Barry. "Oh, hello Eliza—"

"I demand an explanation for what your… Anne has done to my Diana." Mrs. Barry said firmly.

"I beg your pardon?" Bertha replied. Anne got out of bed and walked over to peer over her mother's shoulder.

"How dare your child drag mine out to God knows where and bring her back soaking wet and stinking of fish!?" She caught sight of Anne and glared so fiercely that it took all of her bravery not to flinch.

"Diana didn't even get wet—" Anne started, but her mother's hand on her shoulder was firm, causing her to shrink back.

"The girls were just playing, I'm sure Anne and Diana meant to be more careful." Bertha said apologetically.

"Playing?" Mrs. Barry scoffed. "You may allow your child to run amok with stokers and God knows whom else—"

"And what is wrong with the company Anne keeps?" Bertha asked. "We're all on the same ship, aren't we?"

"Oh, you know good and well there are levels for a reason! To separate the good and the bad." Mrs. Barry's gaze bore into Anne's over Bertha's shoulder. "I see some still managed to slip through."

"I'll ask you never to direct those words at my daughter again, Eliza. Anne has been nothing but kind to Diana." Bertha did not raise her voice, but there was something so icy and scary about her tone that Anne looked up at her in surprise, taking in the way her mother stood with chin raised in defiance, her gaze unwavering from Mrs. Barry's.

"That is over, then!" Mrs. Barry snarled, looking down at Anne, and this time Anne did shrink back. "Stay away from Diana! I mean it!"

"Oh—scram off!" Bertha slammed the door so hard that the walls rattled.

Anne stood frozen, a hand clamped to her mouth as tears filled her eyes and her heart broke. She collapsed to the bed with Bertha coming to rub her shoulders.

"Now, don't cry, Dear." Bertha sighed, trying to smile. "I'm sure it's not as bad as all that. It'll all simmer down soon enough…"

"H-How can she do that?" Anne sobbed. "How can she clip Diana's wings so? I feel as if my own have vanished and I am plummeting through the sky—"

"Anne, you know people like the Barry's just don't understand people like us. They think having money makes them better, but we're all the same." Bertha said, stroking Anne's hair.

"Diana isn't like that." Anne whimpered.

"I know she's not. I'm sure she'll plead her case just as strong, and you'll be friends again before you know it."

"Bertha—" The door opened and Walter poked his head in. "Jack's got a carriage waiting for us! Oh, what's wrong, Lass?"

"Nothing." Anne said quickly. "Go, Mother, have fun."

"Oh, Anne, we could stay here with you if you want." Bertha said.

"No, no, I'd rather be alone. I mean it." Anne laid back in the bed and covered her head with the blanket.

"If you're sure… we'll be back late tonight, so get to sleep on time, okay?"

Anne didn't say anything. She just laid still and waited for them to leave. After a few moments she felt her father pat her on the head and heard the door close.

Anne waited in the agonizing silence for several heart beats before she began to cry again.

A while later, Anne dragged herself from the depths of despair to work, but she could not seem to focus on Cordelia's feelings of love. She could only drone on about her feelings of isolation and loneliness, for fighting a war against ones intended for the life of their true love could be lonely at times.

Writing about it all did not make Anne feel any better. In fact, when she began to dot the pages with barely held-back tears, she closed the notebook and busied herself with something else.

She finally settled into school work, and was nestled in bed in her nightgown as she focused on geometry. For math was so both tedious and easy, that it numbed her mind to the pain. As her eyes blurred sleepily in front of the numbers, she imagined she and Diana were good friends again.

Anne gasped, pencil dropping to the bedspread when someone hammered on the door. Her heart pounded, wondering if it was some stranger.

"Anne!" Diana wailed. "Are you there?"

"Diana!" Anne jumped up and opened the door. Her heart soared at the sight of her friend, but quickly dropped as she saw Diana standing there in a nightgown, her face torn in anguish. "What's—?"

"Anne, it's Minnie May! She's sick, and I don't know what to do!" Diana cried, her tearful eyes glancing around the room. "Y-Your parents aren't here?"

"No, they went to the theater. Did yours go as well?" Anne had leapt into action, dragging a sweater on over her own nightgown.

"Y-Yes, I tried finding someone else, but the wh-whole place seems empty."

"Everyone must be in town." Anne took note of the eerie silence in the hall as she followed Diana down to her cabin.

"Minnie May's in here." Diana opened the door. "Sh-She said she didn't feel good, so I made her lay down, and then she started coughing and wheezing and—"

Anne went to the bedside where Minnie May was wrapped up in a blanket. Her face was red and sweaty and each breath seemed to stir a cough. Anne pressed her hand to the girl's face.

"She's burning up." Anne muttered to herself.

"W-What do we do?" Diana wailed, tears down her face.

"I—I'm not sure." Anne admitted. She tried to wrack her brain for whatever was done when she was ill, and then it hit her."Wait, what I read!"

"Read?" Diana whimpered.

"Research for my story! One of Cordelia's maids had a daughter who took deathly ill." Anne explained.

"Deathly!?"

"Not now." Anne said determined. "Not today. She's burning, so we have to regulate her temperature. The cold air should help." Anne went to scoop her up, but Diana stopped her.

"I can—I want to carry her." Diana picked Minnie May up and started for the door. Anne trailed behind, making sure the blanket didn't drag as they went down the hall and up the stairs to the deck.

Anne was hit with a wave of cold, the wind blowing her gown around her legs. She gave a single fleeting thought to the fact that she was glad she was wearing stockings as Diana lowered Minnie May to the floor.

"You're okay, you're okay." Diana sniffled, pulling some of the blanket from around her sister's face so that the wind hit her face.

Anne crouched beside them but looked around. It was still scary silent, the roar of waves against the hull. Anne ran to the side to peer over the rail, straining to know if the faint sounds she could hear over the waves were from the city or the steerage.

"Anne, she's shaking!" Diana wailed, cradling Minnie May. "She's cold."

"Don't cover her up." Anne said firmly, going back to place a hand on her shoulder. "I'm going to find Gilbert."

"What?" Diana looked up at her with tearful eyes.

"There's a doctor somewhere on this ship, that's how Gilbert's arm was patched up. He's the only one of us who knows where the doctor is." Anne didn't give Diana time to do much other than cry before she turned and was off.

Everything on the Osprey seemed so different now. The only time she was out of her cabin at night were times she spent with Gilbert, and that wasn't really in the dead of night.

Anne had never gone this far below, though. Her heart pounded as she stepped lower and lower into the darkness. She came to an empty hallways and kept going, wondering if she was going the wrong way. She turned down another hallway and looked between several doors, barely visible in the dark and began to call out in a harsh whisper.

"Gilbert!? Gilbert!?" Anne moved towards a door where she could hear something creaking beyond. "Gilb—"

A silhouette rushed out of the room, and in the few seconds of open door, Anne could hear what sounded like voices and laughter rising from the silence before a man grabbed her arm in the dark.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Anne screamed, clamping a hand over her mouth and stepping back. It was a man that Anne didn't know, though she quickly reminded herself she didn't know anyone down here besides Gilbert and Bash.

"I –I need to see Gilbert Blythe." Anne said shakily. "It's an emergency."

He stepped back into the room, half his body still out and preventing the door from closing. Anne strained to hear him calling into the room, but the sound of her own heart was too loud. A second later, Gilbert came out.

"Anne, what are you doing? You're not allowed down here!" Gilbert's whisper was harsh, but he slipped his hand into hers.

"I –It's Diana's sister. " Anne explained. "She's really sick, and I didn't know what else to do! Help!"

"Right, okay." He stroked his thumb across her knuckles for half a second before going back into the room.

Anne wrapped her arms around herself, feeling cold and small in the dark. The wait stretched into a full minute and Anne began to wonder how Minnie May was doing.

Gilbert finally came back out, a jacket over one arm and Bash following behind him. Anne tried to give them both grateful looks but she didn't think they could see them in the dark. She followed beside Gilbert, trusting him to know the way back up.

The emerged on the deck and Anne darted towards the spot where she'd left Diana and Minnie May. Diana was sitting down and had pulled her sister into her lap. She looked up when they approached.

"Sh-She can't breathe, she's coughing!"

"Isn't there a doctor?" Anne asked Gilbert.

"I'll check the infirmary." Bash said. "If she ain't there, there's gotta be someone downstairs who knows what to do."

"Flip her over." Gilbert said as Anne watched Bash run towards the stairs again. "Over, to clear her lungs."

"Here." Anne ran and dragged over a crate, straining a bit. "On here."

Diana was crying again as she unwrapped Minnie May. The girl shivered as Diana laid her onto the crate on her stomach before covering her back up with the blanket. Gilbert began pounding her on the back.

"She's wheezing." Anne reported, crouched by Minnie May's face.

"Come on, kid." Gilbert muttered.

"Cough, Minnie May!" Diana said. "You need to cough."

Anne winced as Minnie May's cough was tiny and feeble, her teeth chattering. Anne felt goosebumps over her own skin through her sweater.

"Come on…" Gilbert said.

"You're doing it too hard!" Diana snapped at him, sobbing. "You're going to hurt her!"

"I'm trying to help her!" Gilbert said firmly, retaining an air of calm that quite impressed Anne. "Anne, help me." Gilbert grabbed a rag from his jacket pocket. "Give her this to cough into."

Anne folded the rag to a portion not stained with coal and leaned down to hold it under Minnie May's mouth. Gilbert pounded her back and Minnie May inhaled shakily before coughing heavily.

Diana finally pulled herself from still and crying to stroke Minnie May's hair and whisper to her. Anne watched as her coughing subsided for a moment back to wheezy breaths. She refolded the cloth and held it back again and she coughed once more.

"Look, Minnie May. Look at the moon." Diana said softly. Minnie May turned her head and looked up silently as Diana pointed towards the half-crescent moon.

Gilbert placed a hand still on Minnie May's back before leaning down to press his ear to her. Diana seemed to understand what he was listening for and told Minnie May to inhale.

"Not as clear as I'd like." Gilbert sighed.

"She's freezing, can't we take her in?" Diana begged.

Anne was unsure if Gilbert's medical prowess was much better than her own, but she found herself praying he'd agree. Her fingers and toes were numbing with cold and the hard wooden deck was wearing on her knees.

"Maybe we should wait for –Bash!" Gilbert looked up. Anne turned and saw Bash coming across the deck with someone. They were holding a lantern and as they placed it down on the deck beside them, Anne saw it was a woman with a green dressing gown over pajamas.

"I was pounding on her door, thought she was in town." Bash panted.

"Nope." The woman opened a satchel she'd been carrying. "Just fast asleep. What I get for having chamomile, I suppose."

"You're a nurse?" Anne asked.

"Doctor." She told Anne, a smile in her eyes.

"A female doctor…" Anne breathed as the doctor took Minnie May off the crate and laid her onto her back, leaning up against her lap.

"Let's see…" The doctor reached into a satchel she carried and placed a thermometer in Minnie May's mouth in between her breaths. "I think her fever's down. It should be safe to take her in for now."

"Do need onions?" Anne asked.

"Onions?" The doctor gave Anne a strange look followed by a short laugh. "Creative, but I'm afraid that's just an old wives tale."

Anne didn't point out that it worked in sixteenth century Scotland. She just stood up and followed as Diana carried Minnie May back inside.

Diana laid Minnie May back on the bed in the cabin and the doctor propped her up against pillows before pouring her a dose of medicine from a bottle. Gilbert got a glass of water and handed it to the little girl who drank it all.

"Will she be okay?" Diana asked.

"I think she'll be fine." The doctor nodded. "Lucky you all were there. Taking her outside might have saved her from overheating." She looked at Anne before turning to Gilbert. "And good job on clearing her lungs, that kept her breathing."

Anne turned to Gilbert to flash him a proud smile, but he was looking down at Minnie May with deep concern as the doctor laid her back and covered her up. Minnie May settled down into the blankets, closing her eyes and sniffling.

"Here, make sure your parents know to give her another dose when she wakes up." The doctor placed the medicine bottle on the bedside table and Diana nodded. "And don't be afraid to bring her by if she gets bad again. How much longer is your family on the ship?"

"Just until England." Diana said.

"That may be for the best." The doctor nodded and Anne felt a pang of upset, but forced it down. "Now, she's asleep and her breathing sounds alright for now, check her for fever is she starts to sweat again."

Bash had been watching by the cabin door and now followed the doctor out into the hall. He looked back towards Gilbert as if to ask if he was coming, but Gilbert shook his head.

"In a minute. I just want to really make sure she's alright."

Minnie May's less-laborious breathing was the only sound for a while before Diana turned to Anne, placing a hand on her knee.

"Anne, I'm so sorry my mother yelled at you. I begged her not to go over there."

"It's okay." Anne said. She'd almost forgotten that her even being with Diana was against the rules now—not that those sorts of rules ever mattered to Anne before. "But I should go before your parents get back."

"Stay, just for a little while?" Diana looked at her.

"Okay." Anne nodded.

Diana fell asleep on the bed beside Minnie May, cradling her sister close. Anne and Gilbert dozed off sitting on the floor with their backs against the foot of the bed, Anne's head having slumped onto Gilbert's shoulder.

Anne woke up when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Blinking awake, Anne lifted her head off of Gilbert and turned to see Mrs. Barry crouched beside her, smiling.

"Mother?" Diana yawned from the bed behind her.

"Anne…" Mrs. Barry started as Gilbert stirred beside her. "Thank you. You… both of you, you saved my baby."

Anne looked past her to see the doctor standing in the doorway with Mr. Barry, smiling and no-doubt relaying the events of last night.

"What time is it?" Diana asked.

"Very late." Mrs. Barry said. "We better all turn in as to not wake Minnie May. I'm going to take her back by the infirmary in the morning."

"We should go." Gilbert said quickly, sleep clouding him a bit as he stood up, offering a hand to Anne and helping her to her feet.

"I'm so grateful." Mrs. Barry sighed. "And so embarrassed for how I behaved… after what I said, you still helped her."

"It wasn't any trouble, really." Anne said, feeling a tad bashful herself.

"It still means everything to me." Mrs. Barry said, and then much too Anne's shock, she hugged them both, her arms around their shoulders and squashing them together. "And I would so be delighted if you all stayed good friends with Diana. I don't want her to be lonely for the rest of the trip."

"Of course." Anne nodded.

"Sure." Gilbert said from squished beside her.

Out in the hall, Anne could hear the slight stirrings of people in the cabin and noted that most everyone must be back by now. There was faint light coming from under her family's door, but instead of going inside, Gilbert kept his hand in hers and led her outside.

Out on the deck, Anne could see the sun just beginning to rise. She was thankful they were still docked so Gilbert wouldn't have to shovel coal today. She was also thankful they weren't parting ways just yet.

"How did you know what to do for Minnie May?" Anne asked, noting that it had seemed to warm just slightly. Either that, or it was just his company keeping her warm.

"I was that sick once." He said, leaning his elbows onto the railing.

"You were?" Anne stood beside him and put her hands on the rail. Out ahead was the faint last few lights of stars on the water.

"When I was a kid. All I really remember was that I could scarcely breath, so my mother laid me on the kitchen table and started pounding my back." He chuckled a bit at the memory.

"Well, it worked." Anne leaned on his shoulder again.

"It did work." He seemed in deep thought as he watched the waves. "I said I didn't want to be a farmer… and now…"

"A doctor?" Anne smiled.

"…Maybe. I'd have to get back to school, then. I'm already behind, but I can catch up fine, I think. Our teacher, Mrs. Stacey is nice like that."

"You could ask my parents to school you." Anne said and then laughed. For a moment, she wondered if she shouldn't have made a joke in his serious moment of contemplation, but then he laughed too.

"Hey, I wanted to ask you something before you turned in…" He looked over at her. "I have to know, how does it end?"

"End?"

"Cordelia…"

"She doesn't kill Wisteria, if that's what you mean." Anne said. "She's a reflection of myself, and I just don't have the heart to kill someone, I think."

"But Cordelia…she ends up with Gilbert, doesn't she?"

"Yes…and no." Anne blushed slightly, glancing away. "Yes, she does, but I just haven't written that part yet, nor have I decided how it's going to go…"

"Why not?"

"Well, it's another instance of… I'm not sure how. I mean, I've never experienced that before. I wouldn't know what to say. I want it to be realistic, but I wouldn't have any idea what she's feeling." Anne felt her blush deepen as she moved closer.

"It's something you still have to research?" He asked, the teasing in his tone only very slight in compared to the seriousness which made Anne's heart pound.

"…Yes."

Anne's breath stopped in her throat as Gilbert reached out to tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear once more, only this time his let his hand linger. His fingertips brushed warm along her jaw.

She bit back a smile of excitement as he leaned in. Their eyes locked, Anne seeing an unspoken flood of emotions in his before she closed hers on instinct.

And then Gilbert kissed her.

Anne felt the same burning as when he kissed her hand, only this was a thousand times more intense. As both his hands cupped her face, she noted they were soft despite how hard he worked.

The warmth of his lips slipped to the soft feel of tongue as Anne managed to wrap a hand around his arm, relying on him to steady her from the shaking in her legs.

It seemed to become the only thing that mattered, yet also seemed to end much too soon. He pulled back, pressing his forehead to hers and they shared mingled breaths of euphoria that wanted to spill into laughter.

Anne didn't stop smiling even as she walked back to the room. She was wired, every detail playing over and over again in her mind, ready to pour out of her soul as ink on page.

But when Anne flopped onto the bed and reached for her notebook, she was fast asleep before she even opened the cover, that smile and blush still firmly on her face.


End file.
